Flight of Freedom
by lunerwerewolf
Summary: After the third task of the Triwizards' tournament, Minister Fudge blames Harry for the death of fellow Champion Cedric and orders his execution, via the Veil of Souls. Desperate to save his godson Sirius follows Harry into the veil. What happens next could be their undoing or the answer to their prayers; but can they adjust to a world where dragons fly in wars, and a historic figu
1. Chapter 1

Prolog

Harry lay curled up in a small ball on his cot in the cupboard under the stares. He'd been there since he'd been sent back to the Dursley's immediately following the end of the third task of the Triwizards Tournament. He'd been blamed for Cedric's death, and his wand had been snapped by Minister Fudge, who refused to believe that Voldemort had returned. They'd dropped him off a few hours later, much to the Dursley's disgust. After they'd been informed of his status as a Murderer, an expelled, wandless, murderer at that, he'd gotten the first real beating the Dursley's had dared to give him since his letter arrived and shoved him into his old cupboard.

That was three days ago.

He hadn't seen the light of day since.

He'd given Hedwig to Hermione, before he'd been dragged back to hell.

He'd suspected something like this would happen and had wanted his beloved owl out of harm's way.

His only hope was that his friend's would soon come for him.

But he didn't know how much of a possibility that really was –

Ron had called him a murderer and spat at him when he'd tried to talk to him before he'd been dragged back to his own private version of Azkaban.

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He'd lost track of how long he'd been there, trapped in the hell that was his mother's sister's home. His stomach had given up protesting the lack of food, and he was fairly certain that it had been a few days since his last beating. He huddled a bit closer in on himself wondering what day it was, had his birthday already passed?

Was he already fifteen?

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THE-BOY-WHO-LIVED-TO-Kill?

Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge made a shocking announcement today, Harry Potter age 14 once the pride of the wizarding world has been sentenced to death. Even more shocking however is the crime. Desperate for further fame and glory, the boy-who-lived murdered fellow Hogwarts student and TriWizard Tournament Champion Cedric Diggory. The boy's feeble excuse pins the crime on long dead, Order of Merlin recipient Peter Pettigrew, at the behalf of he-who-must-not-be-named, who's very downfall came at the hands of Harry himself back in sentence is to be carried out on Saturday at 10 in the morning in the Ministry building, where The-Boy-Who-Murdered is to be pushed through the Vale of souls to his ultimate Judgment. The Minister feels that this shocking sentence is befitting of a boy who once stood as a beacon of goodness and hope despite the fact that this form of punishment went out of use in the early 1800's. The execution is open to for public viewing.

Reta Skeeter

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Hermione Granger had never been so frantic in her life. During the school year, she and Harry had started trying to find a way to keep Harry's godfather Sirius Black out of Ministry hands. She'd kept up that desperate search, even after her dear friend had been expelled. Simply adding him to the list of people she had to find safety for.

She had finally found the way to save them both but it might be too little too late. Harry was to be executed tomorrow and her plan couldn't be put into motion for a few days after that deadline had passed.

The solution was simple, if only she could find a way around 2 critical factors.

1 harry needed to be 15 for this to even have a chance of happening and two she needed to find a way to get both Harry and Sirius out of the Country. If she could just get them to America, Wizarding assilum laws would require them to be questioned about their crimes under truth potion before they could be given status as American citizens, safe from British political troubles. The only problem was Sirius was wanted in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, and Harry needed to be an emancipated Adult under Brittish law.

Which he couldn't become until he turned 15.

If she could get Harry away from his relatives, and keep him alive until he turned 15. She might have a chance. She just had to get him a passport, and Sirius could make the trip as Padfoot in a plane. The problem would honestly be the first two.

And what if the Ministry told the Muggle Authorities that Harry was a murderer just like they had with Sirius?

What then?

Harry couldn't conveniently turn into a house pet.

She needed Time

Why had she dropped her extra classes?

The Time Turner would have come in handy Right about now.

HPTHPTHPTHPTHPT

Harry looked around as he was frog marched into the Ministry by two Aurors in what looked like dragon hide robes. The Ministry building was a ruddy circus, with people lining up to see him executed for his supposed crimes. Somehow the thought of his death, and the fact that for some reason people felt the event would be entertaining didn't affect him the way he thought it should. He was tired and in pain, weak from hunger and dehydration at the hands of his "loving family" and he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. Hermione was standing off to the side sobbing into Fred's arms. She and the Twins had already said their goodbyes. Remus had had to be sedated, his eyes an alarming glowing yellow. Harry was Glad the man didn't have to watch his execution, and was safely away from all of this. He didn't think the werewolf could take what was to come. He was now glad he'd made up his will after his name had come out of the goblet; he'd divided everything he owned between into five equal shares giving 1 fifth to Remus, Fred, George and Hermione. Ordering that the last fifth be given to the Weasley family, at the time he'd been so angry with Ron that he'd left his Firebolt, Not to Ron, but to Ginny. The Maurader's map and invisibility cloak he'd left to Remus (all that was truly left of the man's family), and every book he owned to Hermione.

He held his head high ignoring the Jeering. He was almost halfway to the vale when the sound of an enraged dog snarling and barking drew his attention. The immense black dog looked cleaner then the last time he'd seen him, but he was still too thin. Padfoot fought his way to his side biting and snarling, trying desperately to free him.

"Padfoot, no." he said softly. "They'll hurt you. Go to Hermione boy." He looked up and caught Fried, George and Hermione's eyes. "Take Care of Padfoot for me please he said, as the Aurors shoved him harshly through the Vale.

He felt shocking cold, and he barely recognized the large black shape hurtling after him.

It took him a moment to realize Padfoot had followed him. "No!" he cried soundlessly.

The wind tore his cry away and suddenly he was falling.

Falling from an unimaginable height, the large black dog that was his godfather at his side

Terror gripped him at the sight of the ground rushing up to meet them both, and he screamed unashamed.

There was no way they would survive a fall from this height magic or no magic.

_Oh Sirius, why did you have to come with me?_

AN.

I know this is short but I wanted to get this started. This fic popped into my head and wouldn't leave so I finally gave in and started writing it. Next chapter should be up shortly. Read and review please.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Sirius swore to himself as he fell to his death alongside his godson. It was no wonder this form of execution had gone out of style in the 1800's from his lofty height he could see the English Channel. The veil had opened a porthole on the French sidei and he doubted that the French Ministry of magic had been thrilled with their dropping convicts on them from thousands of feet in the air. Not to mention the problem of muggle sightings.

He wished he'd gone to Harry's execution as something other than a large dog. However having a 'Notorious mass murderer' rescue him from his execution had seemed like a sure fire way to ensure that Harry never got a chance at a real trial, so he'd gone as Padfoot.

Fat lot of good that did

Now his godson was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He'd gladly give his life to save Harry's.

Harry didn't have a wand, so there was no way of slowing their fall or even cushioning the landing. To make matters worse they were falling way too fast for him to even have a hope of transforming back and casting the spells required to even give them a chance at surviving this.

If only he'd gone to the ministry as a human or something that could do more damage than a large dog. Like a dragon. Briefly he imagined transfiguring himself into a dragon, tearing the ministry down one stone at a time, and flying off with his godson to somewhere where the boy could be safe.

He was desperate to save his godson, and had he the time, he would have transformed back into a man and Transfigured himself into a Dragon to rescue his beloved godson regardless of the consequences inherent in such a transformation.

But he didn't have the time he'd be dead long before he could complete the last transformation.

He envisioned the deadly speed and precision maneuverability of the Hungarian Horntail with its deadly spiked tail and relatively short, hand length spinal horns. The Swedish Short-Snout's coveted protective hide and the blue burning fire that reduced bone to ash in a matter of seconds. He had to admit that he currently found the idea of reducing that idiot Fudge down to a pile of steaming ash… satisfying. The Chinese Fireball's fringe of spikes that eloquently framed its face and protected its neck, and the Romanian Longhorn's two abnormally long cranial horns flashed briefly across his thoughts before his mind once again shifted directions. His thought briefly to the dueling robes his uncle had given him when he'd graduated from the Aurors' academy; they'd been made out of hide from the belly of a Ukrainian Ironbelly.

He felt something, like liquid fire coursing through his veins as his magic reacted to his desperation.

He didn't allow himself to think about what his magic was doing, if he did he'd likely panic and kill them both. He reached out with one now enormous pale gray blue hand and snatched Harry up carefully enclosing him in his long claw tipped, surprisingly dexterous fingers. Together they plummeted towards the earth; he could hear Harry screaming in manic terror from the confines of his claws. He set aside the very human urge to make sure he was alright and listened to his dragon instincts as they screamed at him to pull up and open his wings.

His landing was clumsy at best, landing on three feet was not something his instincts were quite prepared for, but they were safely down, and that was all that really mattered.

He opened his claws and gazed down at his terrified Godson. The boy stood frozen on his palm, gazing up at him in openmouthed shock.

Then he screamed, his voice cracking, almost comically.

Sirius snorted at him, in mild amusement and waited for the boy to stop screaming.

"Sirius?" harry finally asked in a timid tone.

"Not often." He retorted flippantly.

Harry blinked at him before claiming down off of his palm. "Thanks for saving me." He said quietly before adding "you should probably change back now."

Sirius felt his jaw drop. "I can't," he replied after a second. "Transfiguring yourself into a Magical creature has permanent consequences. Chiefly the merging of your magical core with the creature's own magic. Once the change is made it cannot be unmade." He snorted and then playfully added "What are they teaching children these days?"

Harry gaped at him for a moment, before his eyes dropped down to his feet. "I – I'm sorry Sirius, this is all my fault."

Sirius hissed, noting idly that it sounded like water hitting white hot stone. "Now you listen to me." He said firmly. "You are my Godson and I have loved you since the first time I held you. Your father had fainted so I got to hold you first – which I might add I never let him live down. If I thought that I could buy you even a minute longer to live by sacrificing my own life I would do it without a second thought and be damned happy about it. As for living as a Dragon," he shrugged. "I don't entirely mind the new arrangement, just imagine the look on your dates faces when I tell them to have you home by midnight."

Harry gapped at him for a second before replying "you make me sound like a girl." In the most amusingly affronted tone Sirius had heard in a long time.

With a sigh the boy sat down by his hand. "So, now what?"

Sirius sighed, "I don't know." He admitted after a second's hesitation. "I suggest we get as far away from here as possible before the nearest group of Wizards comes to investigate our falling out of the sky. No wonder this form of execution was outlawed. How was Fudge planning to hide this from the muggles?"

Harry nodded and climbed shakily to his feet. "Any Idea where we are?" he asked as they started walking picking a direction at random.

"The French side of the Cannel, judging by the view on our way down." He replied, before adding, "I forget if we have an extradition treaty with the French Ministry of Magic, we'll have to stay as quietly hidden as possible. You at least are still very easily recognizable."

Harry nodded absently scurrying along in an attempt to keep up with Sirius's great strides, despite the fact that Sirius himself was still trying to figure out the Mechanics of his new body. The newly minted dragon was honestly a little afraid to simply let his instincts take over, his first night as Padfoot he'd chased Prongs all over the room of Requirement, until the frightened stag and he had gotten the instincts back under control.

And he'd been full at the time to.

He didn't even what to think about how an emaciated Dragon would react to his skinny little godson.

He glanced down at the boy as he stumbled for the umpteenth time and noted the fact that a good wind would likely blow the boy over. He growled, he wanted nothing more than to fly to his Godson's relatives'' home and burn it to the ground.

"Harry?" he asked after a moment. "When was the last time you ate?"

His Godson blinked up at him, a startled expression on his face. "I had some weak soup yesterday." He replied after a moment.

"Let me rephrase that, when was the last time you had a proper meal?" he asked mentally reevaluating his godson's physical state. It was hard to tell underneath the wizard's robe that was thrown over the many folds of ratty muggle rags that served as the boy's clothing.

"I'd rather not say."

"Before the third task then," Sirius replied. Harry's startled expression only confirmed his suspicions, and he changed skinny to emaciated. He sighed, as they headed for the more dense woods. He had to admit to no small amount of confusion as far as he knew France was more heavily populated then this.ii He considered their predicament as they walked, Harry he noted was having a more difficult time dealing with the shrubbery that for him was relatively sparse.

"Why don't I give you a ride?" He suggested mildly. Well aware that the fourteen year old boy was likely to protest being carried, like a small child. Harry surprised him however, rather than the indignant response he was expecting the boy replied by enquiring whether Sirius thought that was wise given the current state of his health. Sirius couldn't help laughing as he reminded Harry that he might as well have been a feather for all his current form felt the extra weight.

Actually getting Harry on board proved a might challenging, but after several false starts Harry was safely seated upon his back. Idly Sirius enquired, "What do I look like anyway?"

There was a pause before Harry replied "A bit like the horntail and yet nothing like it at the same time."

He fell silent and Sirius waited patiently for him to continue, wondering briefly if he might be able to catch them some dinner while they were in the woods.

"You're a lot bigger for one thing. Your coloring's different for another. You are a pale gray blue up here, but your belly is an interesting mottled gray, like gray marble." Harry added briefly and Sirius thought the boy was being rather polite, personally he would have said dingy rather than pale. He paused and lowered his head to look at his chest, noting absently that it was indeed like marble, if the rock in question had never seen a wet rag. He snorted in wry amusement, and carefully picked his way through the undergrowth, as Harry continued to describe him. "You have two really long horns on top of your head. They are the center piece of a thick fringe of smaller horns framing your face and neck, including four small ones over and under each eye. The Fringe is thicker on the top of your head and neck but it narrows out so that you have a single line of progressively smaller horns going down your spine and tail. Unlike the Horntail, you have a single long Scythe-like horn at the tip of your tail surrounded by… I think four smaller spikes… maybe as long as my hand, and … I think you have tailfins."

Sirius froze and then deftly brought his tail forward to examine it. Harry was right; he did indeed have tailfins, though he had no idea where they had come from. No dragon he knew of had tailfins let alone two sets as he discovered when he turned his head to get a better look at the rest of his still gaunt body. The larger set was at the base of his tail, with the smaller being at the very tip, he flexed the fins experimentally and discovered that they gave his tail extra. He wondered idly if that had been the result of his thoughts briefly wondering to the Goshawk his grandfather used to hunt with, while he'd been thinking about Dragons and tearing the ministry apart as one.

Goshawks were the masters of Maneuverability. His Grandfather's damned bird had seemed to be able to fly through holes just barely big enough to fit its body with the wings closed.iii He wondered if the tailfins on his dragon form where his magic's attempt at recreating that maneuverability. At the very least it meant his tail wouldn't be a dead weight in the air.

It was odd at first he'd thought that his magic had conspired to make him an entirely new breed of dragon, a hybrid that incorporated all of the features he'd considered while fantasizing about destroying the ministry as a dragon. But the tailfins simply did not fit in with that theory. Neither did the Scythe-like blade on his tail. He couldn't quite call it a horn, not when its wickedly sharp edge arched up high and extended out a good five feet past the tips of his folded tailfins which stuck out past the tip of his tail by a almost two feet. From the looks of it the underside of it was sharp as well, with what looked like small barbs along the tip. There was also something very familiar about his tailfins, he couldn't put his finger on it but he was distinctly reminded of something.

"You eyes have changed to." Harry said softly snapping him out of his musings.

He paused at that but he supposed it made sense, after all most dragons had yellow eyes, though there were a few exceptions. The pupil less white opal like eye of the Anatolian Opaleye being the most recognized. But one species was known for its vivid purple eyes and anther for its blood red eyes. "What do they look like now?" he asked quietly. He was honestly a little saddened by the loss of his handsome gray eyes. They'd made so many girls swoon when he was in school. It was a shame to lose one of his best features.

"Well your eyes are very colorful now."

Sirius snorted; great he had the white opal eyes of the Antipodean Opaleye.

"You have a very narrow slit pupil," Harry continued, bringing his thoughts to a screeching halt.

The Antipodean Opaleye didn't have any pupil at all, and all of the others had small circular pupils. iv He knew he wasn't nocturnal, no dragon was, but also the Afternoon light didn't dazzle his eyes at all. Was he like a house cat that could hunt in both normal and very dim light?

"Harry?" he enquired almost timidly, "what is the base color of my eyes?"

"I'm not sure really," harry replied. "It's dark though maybe black or midnight blue, with flecks of several different shades of blue, green, and red."

Sirius froze; Harry had just described a Black Fire Opal.

He swallowed, he needed to get a good look at his wings, and he needed to do it fast. When he'd turned sixteen and runaway to live with James, he'd entertained the idea of becoming a Dragon Handler just to spite his mother, and James's Father Charles, had given him a book library to read, that had been in the Potter family library since before Hogwarts. It gave a detailed description of dragon breeds including the ones that had gone extinct. It was self updating so it had also been current.

There had been only one breed that had gone extinct back in the time of the Founders that had tailfins and eyes that bore a striking resemblance to black fire opals. He forced himself to start moving again they had been walking – or riding in Harry's case – for the better part of the day if the sun was anything to go by, unless the Veil had dumped them several hours into the future as well as over France.

Which he couldn't rule out

He was going to have to learn how to fly soon, he realized as their stomachs grumbled simultaneously. He was likely going to have to hunt for them both, since a human could be captured and subdued with a lot less effort them a dragon.

Not that he was complaining, providing for Harry was his responsibility.

A responsibility that he had badly neglected given the boy's current state

It was high time he preformed that duty.

They'd been walking for almost another hour in silence when Harry quietly enquired "Do you think it's safe for us to keep our names?"

Sirius thought about it for a few minutes before responding. "It's probably safe for me to keep my name; no one is going to think 'Notorious Mass Murderer Sirius Black' would turn himself into a Dragon after all."

"Sorry," Harry interrupted softly.

"You have nothing to apologize for, pup. I love you and as far as I am concerned you are my son in all but blood. I don't regret becoming a dragon, merely the circumstances leading to that transformation. As I was saying, pup, I can probably keep my name, but you should defiantly change yours and we'll have to find a way to hide that scar, it's rather distinctive." Sirius paused briefly before adding, "What do you want to be called?"

"I'm not sure." Harry replied. "I'll think about it."

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Harry sat quietly on Sirius's back, just behind his wing joints and considered the problem of a new name, while staring idly at the large horn he was sitting next to, he'd briefly considered using one of the large bronze spikes as a backrest but he disliked the idea of what would happen if he was thrown forward. He wasn't afraid of being gored; the spikes here where tall enough that he could easily grab hold of them while standing. Sitting they were taller than he was.

He contemplated the problem of a new name, he may have suggested the change but that didn't mean he truly liked the idea. His name was all he really had left of his family. James he knew was after his father, but he had no idea where Harry came from.

"How about James Evans?" he asked after considering the matter for the better part of an hour.

Sirius snorted, "To obvious." He replied mildly as they came to a large clearing.

Harry tried not to be sick as a large deer they'd surprised bolted out of the woods, only to be felled by a swipe of Sirius's claws, his stomach grumbling at the thought of food did not help.

Not at all

"We should stop here, and eat." Sirius added bowing down so that Harry could slide safely off of his back.

"Herald Jameson?" Harry suggested once his feet where firmly on the ground again.

"Try again," Sirius retorted hefting the dead dear as if it was nothing and awkwardly walking further into the clearing on three legs. He set the deer down before deftly picking up large rocks, which looked like mere pebbles in his five fingered talons, and placing them in a large ring.

Catching the general idea, Harry set about gathering firewood. He sighed, "Evan Jameson?" he asked almost meekly.

"You might as well advertize who you really are with an alias like that Harry. Jameson? Son of James? Admittedly Evan is better than Herald in that regard but still-"

"James or Herald Evanson?"

Sirius snorted, "same problem as Jameson, though a little better since most people won't put Evanson wit Lily Evans immediately. No I think you have to move a little further away from Potter family names."

Harry groaned, "Alright, what would you call me?"

"Had you been born my son, I would have called you Evan. Evan Alexander Black," Sirius replied. "I would have called you Evan, after your mother and because it would have annoyed mine, Alexander after your father's mother who treated me as her own."

Harry blinked, "Sirius," he asked softly. "Would you, I mean, can I use that? The name I mean?"

Sirius seemed to smile, "You are my son in all but name, Harry. In addition to that you legally are my Heir. The Black family name is yours by right of inheritance and I would be honored if you were to use it."

Harry nodded, "Then I guess I am Evan Black now."

Sirius nodded his approval, and lowering his head nudged him gently with his nose. "Could you move? I'm going to light the fire, and I don't know how much control I will have over the flames." He said after a moment in what Harry decided was the Dragon equivalent of a hug.

Harry nodded and calmly walked over to stand at Sirius's front feet. The enormous reptile drew in a deep breath straitened his neck aiming at the fire pit they had built and exhaled sharply.

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Sirius twitched slightly in embarrassment as he watched Evan cook the meat he'd given him from the deer's carcass. All his first attempt at breathing fire had produced, was a gust of wind. After nearly half an hour of trying he'd managed some slime and a fit of almost asthmatic wheezing.

_Honestly what type of dragon couldn't breathe fire?_

The fire that they had had come courtesy of Evan, despite the fact that the boy didn't have a wand and having only a fourth year magical education Evan lacked the control to cast anything without a wand. Oh the boy had tried, for a good fifteen minutes before, finally giving up and using a pair of sticks. It had taken the boy nearly an hour, and Sirius was honestly very surprised by the mouth his godson had at his disposal, but the boy had finally managed.

The boy was quite self sufficient he noted with a pang of regret as he ate his own mostly complete meal as quickly and cleanly as possible. He'd torn a few long thin strips, and a smaller thicker chunk off the deer's shoulder for the boy. It had seemed like a ridiculously small portion in his claws but from the looks of it would feed the boy very well, and judging by how the boy was smoking the thin strips, might provide him with breakfast as well.

Something Sirius was very pleased with.

He waited while Evan ate, occasionally making small talk, and enquiring whether the boy spoke any French.

Predictably he could not and Sirius set about trying to teach him only to discover that he could not pronounce many of the words properly. It was infuriating. It was like he couldn't get his tongue to obey.

Evan looked at him genuinely startled and then almost timidly asked him to "Please try to speak English."

Confused Sirius did so. Only to have Evan shake his head and tell him to "really concentrate on speaking English;" bemused he'd done so being sure to carefully enunciate every word. Only to find he had the same problem with English as he'd had with French though to a lesser degree. So he tried Spanish and had the same results as French. This confused him and he said as much.

Evan shrugged, "it sounds like you're speaking Parseltongue, but it's a bit different, I have to think for a second about what you were saying." He paused before adding, "I understand what you're saying when you speak even when you use other languages although you lose me when you actually manage to speak a language other than English."

Sirius groaned, "I'll have to work on speaking like a human then." He said quietly.

Abruptly Evan laughed

"What's so funny?" Sirius enquired feeling a little hurt that the boy was amused by his predicament.

Evan smiled at him. "I just realized that if you are speaking dragon and I understand it with a bit of work, then I could have just asked that Horntail for the fake egg in her nest."

Despite himself Sirius laughed. After a moment he rose to his feet and walked into the center of the clearing, it was time to put his suspicions to rest. For good or bad he had to know what breed of dragon he was. He took a deep breath and opened his wings, before looking back at himself.

Broad eloquent wings stretched out on either side of his body. They looked to be slightly short, and the edges where rounded into an almost scallop shell shape, they also tapered towards the tip for speed before flaring back out in a dramatic fashion for lift, into the edge of the scallop shell. He had large eye spots that matched his eyes along the edges of his wings. The markings of a male in his prime, though they were faded along with his health. That at least explained his odd coloring, which didn't match any of the breeds he was familiar with. He suspected his color was dulled, indicating his lack of health, if he truly was what he thought he was then he'd be a deep glimmering silvery gray with a blue tint when his health had returned and his under belly would be the color of light grey or white marble.

It explained why he couldn't breathe fire as well he folded his wings and lowered his head to the ground. "Evan," he asked. "would you please see if I have folding fangs in the roof of my mouth?" that said he opened his mouth for the boy to have a look.

Evan didn't even hesitate he simply stepped into his mouth and looked.

After a moment the boy stepped back out of his mouth. "Two sets," He said simply. "and two really large sacks behind them, although the sacks connected to the forward pair look a lot bigger."

Sirius closed his mouth and nodded slowly. He now knew exactly what type of dragon he was. He was venomous and he didn't breathe fire he spat it. Like a spitting cobra with venom. According to the book Jame's father had given him, the first set of fangs contained a deadly cocktail of hemotoxins and neurotoxins that where harmless on the intact skin, but devastating on an open wound or when fired into the eyes. Somehow and he wasn't entirely sure how, combining the venom with the stuff in his secondary fangs made the whole cocktail combine into something new that combusted when exposed to air.v Since the two biochemical sprays didn't connect for some distance in front of his face he and his rider where at no risk of being accidental casualties of his spray. A good thing two since he shared the Swedish Short-snout's blue flame and ability to reduce bone to ash, although he didn't know how long it took for his breed.

If the book was to be believed he could hit a target from 400 feet.

He was a Northern Fireopal, once the terrors of the sky, hunted to extinction by large groups of wizards for the potions ingredients their bodies could be used for. His tail made brutal sense now, if Hungarian Horntails were the falcons of the Dragon world the Northern Fireopal was the Northern Goshawk, not as fast but wickedly maneuverable and deadly in its own way. His normal Pray – was other dragons, and anything else he might decide to catch.

He would have to learn how to use his venom glands and folding fangs.

He didn't have an explanation for how he'd become this long extinct dragon, all he could think of was that his magic had seen his need, seen his desires to poses the most dangerous traits of the dragon world and had made him the one dragon that had them all in one form or another.

He turned his head and gazed down at his godson realizing that he could see him fine despite the failing light, and for the first time since he been tucked away in that hell hole of a prison he was happy. He could protect Harry now. It didn't matter what the world threw at them, wizard or mundane, he know had his one true wish.

The ability to protect his beloved Godson,

If he had to become a dragon to achieve it then so be it.

He curled up around Evan, tucking the boy into the safety of his wings and settled in for the night.

iAN. Okay so this took longer than expected, new job. Sorry. Anyway Sirius is not going to be all powerful he has his limitations he just hasn't found them yet. I based his design largely off of a Goshawk, and tweaked the wings a bit so that it would work for a dragon. His eyes are based largely off of a housecat's. More will be explained later, much like the French Fleur-de-Nuit. Sirius's eyes will be vulnerable to bright flashes at night, after his eyes have fully adjusted to the low light and unlike the Fleur-de-Nuit he is not nocturnal, so he has limitations with night flying. Please read and review.

The earth rotates so I am theorizing that the exact position of the London Ministry of Magic would have changed between 1806 and 1994, hence the porthole opening in France.

ii I have no idea how populated the French coast was in the early 1800's but I can surmise that it likely wasn't nearly as dense as it is today

iii Gos Hawks actually do have this ability watch this video if you don't believe me watch?v=2CFckjfP-1E

iv Lions and other big cats possess pupils that constrict into small, tight circles instead of slits; while they can and do hunt at night their night vision is not as acute as that of their smaller cousins the domestic housecat.

v This is my explanation for how the specific breed of dragon's flame is hot enough to reduce bone to ash in seconds. The only thing I can think of would be a chemical fire started by the mixing of Biochemicals and since two of the breeds from HP are venomous and another has fire that can burn bone, I ran with it. It will have its limitations though. For example the two chemicals must react together to form a new compound that is combustible when combined with the oxygen in the air. If Sirius is out of one, no fire.


	3. Chapter 3

AN. I noticed that a few words are missing from the posted chapter and are not showing up despite being present on the page I uploaded, so until I have a chance to figure out why, I thought I would clarify that a Goshawk can fly through a gap just big enough to fit their body with the wings closed. They do this with the help of the lift provided by their tail.

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Chapter 2

Evan closed his eyes and tried to ignore the pain in his scar. It had been burning constantly since Minister Fudge tried to execute him. He couldn't help hoping the gradual but consistently increasing pain wasn't a sign that Voldermort was in France and getting closer to their position. The pain constant pain was offset by the occasional almost blinding. He rubbed hastily at his distinctive scar and set his mind back to the more pressing matter of building a fire.

Sirius rose from his spot at the edge of the clearing and wondered over to coil up behind him, his tail wrapping around his body like a gigantic cat. The man turned dragon was careful with the bladed tail, placing it on the floor beside himself with and almost reverent gentleness. It amused him to no end since Sirius had never to his knowledge been careful about anything.

It made sense however, as he estimated Sirius's length to be a little less than half tail. Idly he wondered how long it would take for the dragon to gain complete control over the bladed appendage.

The dragon watched him silently for a while occasionally helping him with his task, but otherwise just watching him. Around the time he'd started trying to produce fire Sirius broke their silence with a question.

"What did those idiot Dursleys do to 'Harry Potter'?" He enquired.

Evan froze, "N-nothing." He stammered after a moment.

Sirius raised the four relatively tiny horns that had once been his eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe." He replied.

"Honestly Sirius." Evan respond almost desperately.

Sirius snorted, "It strikes me as odd that Harry Potter was willing and in fact delighted at the prospect of going to live with the man he'd thought guilty of betraying his parents to their murderer just half an hour before."

Evan shrugged, "Harry Potter just hoped his Godfather could understand him in a way his non magical relatives could not." He had to admit referring to himself in the third person like that was strange, but it drove home the point that he could no longer be Harry Potter. It was just too dangerous and if he was honest with himself there were times growing up when he'd wanted to be anyone else.

Evan Black was just a normal boy.

A normal boy with a Dragon, but damn it he would be normal in every other way.

Sirius's tail tip twitched, the long sharp blade gauging the ground. Evan idly wondered if the man had meant to do that.

"If the Dursleys never did anything to harm Harry Potter, how is it that Harry Potter is 15 and Evan Black looks an underfed 13?" the dragon demanded pointedly.

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Evan sighed as he ate his dinner, the leg of a hastily skinned and cooked rabbit. They'd caught several, Sirius eating the bulk of them raw. Evan knew from experience that regular sized meals would only make him sick. It would take a very long time to replace the weight he'd lost while in the care of his relatives. For now Sirius was doing the bulk of the hunting, and had actually managed to find them a small source of water each morning. He was worried about the man tuned dragon though. While they were both slowly putting on weight the dragon remained rather gaunt. The effect seemed to be even more pronounced on Sirius who'd put on a few more feet in length since his transformation.

Sirius had told him time and again not to worry but still it was alarming. He knew how it felt to be constantly hungry, and it was not a feeling he would wish on Malfoy let alone his beloved godfather.

Currently Sirius was standing as far away from their small cooking fire as the clearing and his wingspan would allow. He was vigorously flapping his wings, in an effort to get off the ground. After their first night and following day in the French woods, they had decided it would be safer for them to travel at night; since Sirius could see in the dim light provided by the stars and it was far less likely that they would be caught by either the Wizarding world or by French Muggles. Much to Sirius's dismay they had also discovered that he lacked the muscle to get off the ground. He could fly – as they'd discovered when Sirius had thrown himself aloft but he lacked the strength to stay aloft for long.

So the dragon worked at it a little each day. Standing off to the side of whatever clearing they were spending the day in and beating his wings vigorously for a few hours before taking a break to sleep and then getting up and doing it again.

In some ways it was odd, he'd learned more about his godfather in the past week then he had ever known, and somehow he trusted the dragon more then he'd ever trusted anyone. When this had all started, it had been odd to hear Sirius refer to him as Evan, but now the idea that he'd once been Harry Potter was an odd one. He still missed a few aspects of his old life, like his friends, and flying.

But in many ways the sad 15 year old orphan who'd been starved as much for any bit of human kindness as he was for food, was slowly fading. All thanks to Sirius who was slowly but surely helping to resurrect his shattered self-esteem. He didn't know when it had truly started but fifteen year old Harry Potter was dead, and in his place stood Evan Black who had only just turned 14.

The age change had been Sirius's idea, a further step away from the looming death sentence that was Harry Potter, and into the safety of a new life as Evan Black. Originally Sirius had wanted him to be 13, the age he looked, but Evan had protested ever being treated as a 13 year old child. It had taken them until just last night to iron out exactly how old Evan was going to be should he ever actually have the need to tell people an age.

As he watched Sirius managed to lift himself a good foot of the ground with his frantic wing beats. He smiled happy to see the man succeed.

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"The sun is setting," Sirius told his godson mildly, as he finished his exercises. Evan nodded and set about, gathering up their meager possessions, nothing more than the robes he'd been dressed in and the small knife Sirius had painstakingly carved for him out of a deer bone, which he tucked into the old rope that acted as his belt. Deftly the boy scrambled up into his customary spot. Their second night in the woods they had discovered that Evan could fit up in the relative safety provided by his fringe of horns. That was where Evan sat now, though Sirius hoped it wouldn't be a permanent arrangement. Not because he didn't like having his Godson there, but because he hoped the boy would out grow his perch.

"Do you have a good hold on my horns?" He asked as he kicked dirt over the tiny cooking fire Evan had built.

"I do." the boy replied mildly.

"Good, because we are going to try flying tonight," Sirius's announcement was met with silence, and he added. "I'll fly for as long as I can and then I'll land and walk until morning."

Evan's reply was more of a timid acknowledgement.

Sirius sighed and launched himself into the air opening his wings at the height of his leap, and flapping madly rose slowly into the air.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to use his natural weapons, and Evan would truly be safe.

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Sirius stood in a small forest clearing, with Evan asleep upon his back. He raised his tail high and struck out with it, trying to hit a target he'd drawn with his claws on a tree trunk with the flat of his tail blade. The task was proving far more difficult then he'd expected. His tail kept twitching at the last second to slash the tall trunk with the sharp edge.

Backing up he tried again, this time trying a different angle.

The results were different, if somewhat disastrous.

His tail blade was now embedded in the tree trunk, and it was going to take some work to get it free.

He huffed in annoyance and set to work freeing his tail.

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Evan laughed at the admittedly childish joke his godfather had just told him wincing as his scar twinged yet again, the pain had been getting better yet progressively worse in the two weeks since his execution. The constant pain was ebbing, but now they were replaced with sharp stabbing pains and waves of nausea and to his alarm dizziness. There was something else a feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was as if a part of him was slowly but surely being wound tighter, and locked away. He couldn't place the feeling. Abruptly his vision fogged and his world spun, he collapsed to the floor his body jerking uncontrollably. His scar split open and liquid poured down his face. He blacked out from the pain.

When he came to Sirius was franticly nosing him, shouting his name in desperation.

He swatted weakly at the great nose and sat up, whipping a hand across his forehead. "What happened?" he asked staring in shock and alarm at the black goo that clung to his hands.

"Your scar split open and a bit of black slime oozed out before you passed out." Sirius replied his voice high with alarm.

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Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his desk chair. He didn't like the position the war had put him in, but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Sad as it was Harry had to sacrifice himself to save their world, Voldermort had seen to that the day he'd attacked the Potters. If his suspicions where correct he'd made Harry a Horcrux that night.

If accidentally

That alone meant that Harry had to die to save their world. Sybil's exact words had been "And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives." So either Harry would Kill Voldermort and he'd have to find a way to get rid of the boy so that Voldermort could never return; or he'd die trying to kill the mad man leaving the path clear for Albus himself to finish off the newly mortal megalomaniac.

It was unfortunate but necessary.

Had James and Lily been alive they would have never permitted their son to sacrifice himself. Sirius also would have made sure Harry survived and would have made killing him after the war, more difficult. That was why he'd quietly buried the man's paperwork until he'd been in Azkaban for long enough that nobody thought twice about his presence there.

Harry's upbringing by Muggles who neglected him had also been vital; Harry had to see him as his savior – a grandfather who had only his best interests at heart.

He'd spent the last four years molding the boy, testing the blade he was becoming and tempering it through fire. The Triwizard Tournament had been a happy accident. He'd allowed it because it had been an excellent opportunity to test his weapon. He'd been glad he'd made the decision not to push to have Sirius's trial examined at the end of Harry's third year, since as Harry's legal Guardian Sirius had the Authority to negate the magical contract for his underage charge.

He could have done it himself as Headmaster, he and the other two Headmasters had only to declare the match canceled and allow the three remaining champions to place their names back within the Goblet of Fire.

Minister Fudge's decision to ignore the return of Voldermort played well into his hands, though his decision to execute Harry had not. In the end it had worked to his advantage though. He'd suggested the Veil of Souls to Cornelius. The veil was after all actually an inter-dimensional gateway. It was only when the destination was not set that the Porthole killed its victim. It had taken some work but he'd managed to get Fudge to let him set the thing before they'd sent Harry through. He didn't know exactly where they'd sent the boy but he'd copied down the runes so that Harry could be retrieved at their leisure.

He'd specified two things: One the world had to be nonmagical and two he'd set it for the year 1806. Those two things would combine to make Harry easier to control after they finally went to retrieve him. He planed to set the porthole for the year 1810 when he went to get the boy. Four years in a world where he had no magic and where he was considered nobody without ties to a noble family would ensure that they boy came home with a new reverence and respect for magic, and would only enforce his hero worship of the man who had worked so hard to save him. A de-aging potion would bring the boy back to an age where he could rejoin the rest of his year mates in the fifth year and be ready to fight Voldermort at his command.

He'd have to remember to thank Cornelius once they'd won the war.

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Sirius lay coiled around himself in the small clearing he'd found for them as the sun rose. He was agitated; they were uncomfortably close to a city. He was worried that they would be found by muggles or worse wizards and he didn't quite know how he'd react to the experience. Evan was currently sitting in the palm of his large hand eating a bit of jerky. They hadn't caught much that night though he'd eaten the Rabbit that had somewhat helpfully died of shock when he'd landed in the clearing. It hadn't made much of a meal being to scrawny to really even take the edge off of his hunger and Evan's remaining piece of jerky was small even by the standards of a child used to going without. Yet the boy tried to share it with him - stating that he was the one doing all the work. Sirius had waived him off. Still it had warmed his heart and reminded him of James.

Whatever had happened with Evan's scar it was fading now, and his headaches had gone away completely so that was good at least. Still it confused him he'd never seen a cures scar react like that.

He lowered his head to the ground and tucked his hand with its precious cargo against his chest.

Exhausted sleep claimed him quickly.

It was noon when he awoke his instincts screaming at him to fight or fly. Years of experience as an Animagus had taught him to follow those instincts when they started screaming at him he glanced around the clearing glad to note that everything they owned was currently in the palm of his hand along with the one thing that actually mattered to him. He shifted his weight bringing his hind legs under him preparing to leap skyward just as the Dragon back winged to a landing in front of him.

It was huge and an unpleasant mélange of orange, brown, and yellow. It studied Sirius for a second as he raised his head, shifting his weight so that he could escape at a moments' notice while appearing to the larger obviously older and more experienced dragon to be little threat.

He was rather startled to note the Dragon's odd harness, and wondered how he could aquire one as it would go a long way towards keeping Evan safe if he could ensure the boy would stay on if he had to dive or make an abrupt turn. So far he hadn't tried it and honestly didn't want to although Evan had suggested sacrificing a bit of his robes to fashion a crude harness so he might be better secured to Sirius's horns.

Now he'd defiantly have to consider it.

"Who are you?" the Dragon demanded in French as Sirius studied the numerous people he was carring. Suddenly he didn't think they were in the Wizarding world anymore.

For one thing Dragon's were not domesticated and for another they didn't speak French.

He cocked his head to the side considering, he was about to reply when the dragon's question was repeated this time in English. He jerked back in surprise that voice had come not from the Dragon but from the man on the dragon's shoulder.

Utterly bewildered he forgot himself and replied in the strange parseltongue like language that he used with Evan.

The dragon's head jerked up as the man on his back gasped "It's a feral."

They chatted back and forth about ways to lure him away from the village and off to "the Breeding grounds". Along with something how much of a shame it was that they couldn't speak with him, and a war with England.

Sirius listened carefully. Glancing up when the shadows above him shifted and noting at least three other Dragons circling loosely above him. The Dragon's human mentioned that it was a shame he was feral as he would obviously grow into a 'heavyweight'. Utterly bewildered he gave in to his impulse, and he informed them, "I understand French." Although "understand" was the only word that actually came out in French.

That seemed to cause a bit of a ruckus.

Finally the man standing on the Dragon's shoulder spoke again through his speaking horn. "If you can understand me incline your head." He ordered.

Amused Sirius obeyed.

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All the food he could eat, and eat regularly sounded good particularly since he'd discovered his alarmingly fast Metabolism. From what he understood Dragons only had to eat every few days but he was constantly hungry even when he ate twice a day. They spoke of a War with Brittan and needing his help. His help in a war in exchange for the companionship of other dragons, plenty of food, and they'd said he could have a human companion a "Captain."

Sirius was seriously considering their offer but it would all depend on how they reacted to Evan who while awake was still safely hidden within his clawed hand. "I have a human, will he be safe as well?" he enquired not entirely sure how much of his question had come out in French. The reply however was clear.

As soon as he opened his hand, the French drew their pistols.

He closed his hand and flung himself into the air with a mighty leap, flapping like mad.

He'd been wrong, there wasn't three dragons in the air there were six. He'd never been so thankful for his breed, then when he shot through a slim gap between two advancing dragons. He flapped twice hard, feeling the air like an eagle, caught a thermal and soared into the air letting the wind take him above his pursuers. Two small dragons both light blue and grey where gaining on him quickly.* Cursing he swung his wings in like a falcon about to dive and dropped a bit of altitude while executing a hair pin turn that had him almost doubling over on himself to shoot past and a little below them.

Two more Dragons came at him, one a black with green and blue markings the other gold with red and blue stripes. Physically they were about his size though he knew they likely outweighed him. He folded his wings and his tailfins, aiming for the gap between their wings that was only just big enough to fit his body with his wings closed. He shot between them flying on instinct alone, his tail fins snapping open along with his wings for recovery. He twisted his wings neatly avoiding another enormous gray dragon. Tucking one wing for a split second barrel roll he neatly avoided a collision with the first mottled orange monster before swinging his wings out and soaring again in a desperate bid for altitude. Unfortunately the move brought him face to face with a blue dragon with white stripes that while closer to his own size still ought weighted him.

His mouth dropped open in shock and he felt the muscles in his throat and the roof of his mouth, tighten oddly before his venom came out in a short burst. What looked like a bucket full of the viscous liquid hitting the advancing beast in the eyes so that he screamed piteously and whiled away.

He took full advantage of the situation flapping his wings hard and flew off as fast as his exhausted wings would take him.

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AN. The dragons they meet are a pair of Poux-de-Ciel , a Honneur-d'Or , a Pecheur-Raye, a Papillon Noirs and a Petit Chevalier and a Chanson-de-Guerre.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Evan clung to Sirius's horns crouching low, in the hopes of retaining a bit of warmth and to prevent as little wind resistance to the dragon as possible. They'd been flying for almost three days straight, and Sirius was having enough trouble without him adding to it. It was his fault they were in this mess anyway. Sirius could have simply gone with the dragons; it was him they wanted to kill.

Typical

His stomach grumbled protesting the lack of food.

He felt Sirius's whole body jerk, as he settled lower in the air. Three days with no food had been hard on them both but Sirius was taking it worse than he was. Sirius hadn't slept in that long either. He couldn't not with dragons in pursuit day and night. There was one breed that kept slipping in behind them as the sun went down. Those three dragons, alone kept them from losing the pursuing dragons once the sun went down as they had the first four days to their pursuit.

He'd sacrificed his robes as soon as they'd lost the first group of dragons in the darkness. Tearing away strips of cloth and fastening them to Sirius's Horns and fashioning a crude harness so that Sirius could execute more of the hair rising turns he'd pulled to escape the first lot.

It was a good thing to, since they'd had several close calls with their pursuers that had required Sirius's seconds away from a collision, split-second timing flight style. Harry often wondered if his old Firebolt Broom had been modeled after the myths Surrounding Sirius's breed. He clung to Sirius's back as the Dragon banked hard left then right neatly avoiding the annoying little blue gray dragons.

They were desperate to get away, zigzagging through the air in an erratic flight pattern that was entirely the result of their mad attempts to out maneuver the faster little Dragons, while keeping ahead of the larger ones. Even so it had taken three days for them to realize that their erratic flight path was taking them back toward the English Channel.

Harry prayed they could make it to some form of safety soon.

Sirius desperately needed sleep and they both needed food.

Sirius dropped as they swooped out over the ocean waters.

Behind them one of the larger dragons called out in French and straightening his wings soared out over the water in pursuit. The French dragons' broader wings allowing them to fly better over the water while Sirius labored to stay aloft. Sirius beat his wins hard twice to gain altitude and glided briefly before repeating the action.

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The cold air over the ocean offered him little lift, and he flapped madly to stay in the air. The French dragons where hot on his tail, as he dashed headlong across the English Channel, praying that where ever the hell they were, 'Harry Potter' wouldn't be considered a Murderer.

He didn't know how the British would react to their presence in their air space. Would they react like the French and be interested in the use of the dragon, but want to be rid of his Human companion? Or would they both find safety in their native England?

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Admiral Jane Roland sighed, leaning back in her chair. Today had been a good day despite the Dragon Plague that had been systematically grounding British Dragons for almost the last year. Captain Laurence and his Dragon Temeraire had returned from Prussia, and if rumor was to be believed they were returning with an infant fire breathing Kazilik and 20 feral dragons that were willing to fight for Briton in the war against Napoleon. Something for which she was extremely grateful as there were few dragons who were fit to fly at the moment.

Short of them finding the cure – today couldn't get any better.

Abruptly there was a loud, almost frantic knock on her door. "Enter," she called. Her new First lieutenant came charging in as soon as she'd granted him permission. "Henry?" she enquired only to be abruptly cut of when the man ran roughshod over whatever she had been about to say. All thoughts of any form of reprimand vanished as his words penetrated her mind –

Ten Dragons had been sighted over the Channel, most of them bearing French standards. Cursing she sprang to her feet, she needed to get every Dragon who could fly into the air to defend the channel. There were three small curriers currently in Dover covert, who were free of any illness – four if one counted the small Sharpspitter who was due to return to the convert within the hour. The Anglewing Crescendium* had by some miracle been spared the plague so far, he and the three curriers would make a small but workable formation. Auctoritas and Caelifera were still able to fly, if she had the later two follow the formation at a distance she stood a chance of turning the French forces before they got to far across the Channel.

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Sirius banked to the left, a split second before that irritating little blue and gray dragon could make a swipe at his flank. More of the buggers where on him; harrying him, in an attempt to slow him just enough that the larger heavier beasts could catch up. They swarmed around him like a cloud of annoying biting fleas, eating up his maneuvering room and penning him in. Briefly forgetting the lack of thermals he folded his wings dropping into a nosedive in a desperate attempt to escape the encroaching mob. Flaring his wings open he pulled out of his dive rolled to the side avoiding the talons of the damned black and green one, and beat his way back up into the sky. Utterly exhausted by his efforts, his wings shaking from the strain of keeping him aloft, he saw a sight that both terrified and encouraged him.

Sweeping across the channel came six dragons, an English banner streaming out behind them.

But would they help them or try to kill Evan as the French had?

He had no way of knowing for sure.

Merlin's Balls let them help us!

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Roland sat quietly behind Captain Edwards on Crescendium's back. Signal flags in her hands so she could signal to the other dragons in their ridiculously small formation. She prayed the French took this formation as an insult and not the show of weakness it truly was.

Edwards tapped her knee and handed back his glass curious, she looked through it and realized that one of the approaching dragons wore no harness at all. His flight path was erratic enough that she wondered briefly if he might be sick, perhaps delirious.

However the situation soon revealed itself.

The clearly exhausted dragonet banked left, right, hard left, before rolling sharply to the side in a desperate bid to avoid the two French Poux-de-Ciel that were harrying it.

What the Hell was going on?

Two Poux-de-Ciel, a Honneur-d'Or , two Pecheur-Raye, a Papillon Noirs, a Petit Chevalier and two Chanson-de-Guerre, all after one supposedly feral dragon, that admittedly looked like a breeding experiment gone right, if one discounted the fact that it obviously had not excepted a captain?

True the beast's still rounded horns denoted its youth and the probability of it being a large middleweight but still this was ridiculous.

Short of putting the animal in the breeding grounds what did the damned frogs think was going to happen if they caught the escapee?

As she watched the dragonet folded its wings and shot through a small gap between the Dragons attacking it; in a breathtaking display of maneuverability.

Maybe they could lure it into their own breeding grounds.

Lord knew they needed the dragons right now.

Her decision made she ordered her small force to engage the enemy.

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The damned mottled orange bugger was back again, and Sirius only just had time to dodge as it attempted to land upon his back. Okay so that probably wasn't exactly what it was up to but it sure as hell felt that way! Apparently they'd anticipated that move because the big Gray one grabbed him claws sinking into his shoulders as its damned teeth tried to get through the protective layers of horn at his neck.

Evan shrieked in terror, from under his crown of horns.

Telling him exactly where bloody, manky, blighter was aiming.

Rage at the attack on his godson gave him a new strength.

How Dare He!

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Admiral Roland watched in surprise as the 18 ton Petit Chevalier sank his claws into the fleeing dragon's shoulders and hips beating his wings frantically as it sank it's teeth into the mane of horns protecting the smaller dragon's neck. The pale blue gray dragon roared in rage and brought his wickedly bladed tail up, stinging at the attacking Petit Chevalier, sending men tumbling to their deaths as their carabiners were separated from their belts. He stabbed at his attacker again and again before his curved tail blade caught briefly on the delicate membrane of the wing.

While most dragons avoided going for the wings, the younger dragon jerked his tail blade down sharply slicing through several feet of wing membrane. The Petit Chevalier screamed and wheeled away turning back for France as fast as his injured wing would take him.

It wasn't a permanently crippling blow, as long as the Petit Chevalier was seen by one of France's dragon surgeons, he'd likely recover full use of the wing – although in England at least, it would be a grounding wound. Simply to take strain off of the wing while it healed.

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Sirius dropped sharply, spilling air from his wings like a torn sail, as orange and ugly shot past him. He didn't expect the other one to hit him from the side sending him tumbling through the air like an ungainly Quaffle. He righted himself with effort, thanking Merlin that Evan's attempt at a saddle had survived the strain and kept the boy safely in his place.

He tucked his left wing rolling to the side out of the path of the gold, red and blue brute that had just flown at him from above. He flapped his wings trying desperately to gain altitude, before the next attack.

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Jane cursed to herself as they finally engaged the enemy, reevaluating her earlier assessment of the fleeing dragon, from young to dragonet. It was defiantly still growing, if what she could see of him was any indication. Crescendium swiped viciously at the flank of the Honneur –d'Or, leaving behind bleeding gashes in the gold, blue and red hide. Auctoritas and Caelifera ganged up on one of the two Chanson-de-Guerre; their combined attack confusing the mottled orange beast. The two Yellow Reapers attacked swiftly and from all angles, with the practiced ease granted by their long and distinguished military careers.

Crepusculum, Exitosus, and Elsie the three small, brown and purple Winchesters fearlessly mobbed the Papillion Noirs, harassing him in the air so that his hide was peppered with numerous small bleeding cuts. They got in and got out, a good thing when one considered the fact that each was scarcely the size of a draft horse.

She wished they'd had more dragons to protect the channel, as it was the Dragonet was left to fend off the other Chanson-de-Guerre, both Poux-de-ciel and both Pecheur-Raye. Had the young one had any form of training it wouldn't have been as bad as it was.

Well she didn't know if they would be able to defend the Channel, or get the feral to leave with them.

As she watched the Chanson-de-Guerre dove for the dragonet again. It banked hard to the left, wings quivering from strain, barely avoiding the brute attack. The Pecheur-Rayes attacked from both sides hemming the feral in as he ducked and wove between them frantically. It looked as though he might succeed in breaking away but one of the small blue and gray Pou-de-Ceil made a mad dash at his face casing the Dragonet to back wing quickly to avoid a collision.

That was all the distraction the other little Pou-de-Ceil needed, he dove in and went for the back of the feral dragon's neck with his claws.

Honestly she couldn't understand the fascination the French Dragons had with the feral dragon's neck!

And then she understood.

Understood the feral's desperate flight and his continuing fight to get away, when most other feral dragons would have bowed to greater number and physically larger dragons and allowed themselves to be led off to the breeding grounds by now.

The Pou-de-Ceil pulled up dragging a struggling young man into the air as he went.

Not a Feral after all then.

The gray blue dragon beat his wings frantically tearing off after the Pou-de-Ceil, who shouted at him in French to surrender lest his talons slip and he "drop the English dog".

A dragonet's response was to spit, about five litters of viscous pearly fluid at the Pou-de Ceil. It flew just shy of hitting the little dragon in the face, passing just a few inches to the left. The Chanson de Guerre swooped down positioning himself bellow the four smaller blue dragons, looking for all the world like a spectator enjoying the show, as the Pou-de-Ceil tossed the young man bodily at the other Pou-de-Ceil.

Thus the two Poux-de-Ciel, started a deranged game of Keep away and where soon joined by the slightly Larger Pecheur –Rayes.

It didn't look good for the boy

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Sirius snarled as the little blue dragon tossed his godson around like a Quaffle. He could smell Evan's blood, as they flitted around him tossing the poor boy back and forth, often grabbing him by his already ragged shirt.

Evan screamed in pain and fear as one dragon caught him, sharp talons slicing into his thin arms.

Something in Sirius snapped.

His vision filmed over in read, and he roared a challenge, he shot upwards towards the dragon currently holding his godson, only for the bloody beast to toss the boy down to his mate a hundred feet below and another thirty to the left.

Desperate he dove.

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Admiral Roland watched as the dragonet doubled back on itself in a desperate dive as the Pou-de-Ciel dropped his captain. The dragon got his revenge as he shot past hooking his wicked tail blade on the much smaller dragon's wing joint, he sliced through it severing bone, muscle, and tendon. Jerking his blade free before actually severing the entire wing, briefly spreading his tailfins twisting them slightly to regain his balance and closing them again his tail streaming behind him like a banner.

All without pulling out of his dive.

The Pou-de-Ciel fell out of the sky crippled by his injuries –

And unlikely to ever fly again

Still the dragonet charged onwards snapping open his wings to catch the air as the now terrified Pecheur-Rye frantically headed for the protection offered by the much larger Chanson-de-Guerre.

The remaining Pou-de-Ciel made a desperate attempt to distract the enraged Dragonet, flying at his face in a furry of claws.

The action proved a mistake.

The blue gray caught him by the throat with his teeth, shook him like a rag doll and dropped him, without slowing. The lifeless body fell to the ocean bellow, its neck clearly broken. The Pecheur –Rye tossed the man to his remaining companion who wisely fled for France without even attempting to catch him.

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Sirius twisted around banking hard to the right as he tried to catch the clearly unconscious body of his falling godson. He was too far away and he knew it, even with desperation and adrenaline giving him a new speed. The brown and Purple dragon came out of nowhere, diving under Evan and pulling up so the man on her back caught him in his arms pulling him to rest across his lap like an errant child.

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Captain Hollin, grabbed his speaking horn and frantically called, "I have him, he is safe!" To the diving dragon, praying he understood English.

He must have, because he pulled out of his headlong dive and didn't attack. Instead he fell into place beside Elsie his wings quivering with visible exhaustion.

The Dragonet was in horrible shape, he looked gaunt as if he'd gone hungry to long, but then the boy wasn't much better. He'd braced himself to take what he'd thought was a falling young man's weight and while catching _the boy _had been difficult… it wasn't nearly as hard as it should have been.

He glanced down at the small boy in his lap and his heart broke. The boy was almost as gaunt as his dragon and he could feel every rib through tattered, stained, barely recognizable clothing.

Abruptly a shadow passed over them and he looked up to see the larger of the two Chanson-de-Guerres wings folded coming at them in a fast dive. Elsie shot forward out of pure instinct, the sheer momentum of the act slamming the boy against his chest. He grunted in discomfort, as the boy started to mumble something that sounded suspiciously like a plea for someone to stop hurting him.

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Roland watched in horror as the Chanson-de-Guerre dove for Captain Hollin, his dragon Elsie shot forward, but the damned French beast had anticipated that move and was heading straight for her. There was nothing for it, the little Winchester was no match for the much larger heavyweight. The rest of her impromptu formation was too far away to be of any real assistance, and the little Winchester had _NO_ combat experience real or theoretical.

She braced herself for what was to come, praying they didn't lose one of the few dragons who'd escaped the plague. Then abruptly the Blue gray dragon shot forward and up, rising in the air before doubling back on himself to face the attacking Chanson-de-Guerre. He raised the horns around his neck, so that they stood straight out, quivering so that they clattered together ominously.

In a very visible display

The Chanson-de-Guerre kept right on coming, intent on barreling the smaller dragons out of the sky. The blue gray spread his wings wide and seemed to rear up in the air flapping hard, opening his mouth to hiss at the oncoming dragon with a sound like water hitting white hot stone. Still the French Heavyweight kept on coming.

They were just close enough to see two sets of long needle like fangs dropping down into place before the blue gray launched his attack. His head snapped forward and for thin streams of pearly liquid shot from his mouth combining into one thick stream and combusting explosively less than a meter from his still parted jaws.

He wheeled away as the stream of blue fire, struck the charging Chanson-de-Guerre full in the face.

It was over in less than a minute

Men leapt frantically from the dead dragon's back not caring if the beast they leapt onto in an attempt to escape owed it's allegiance to France or England.

The blue gray dragon calmly resumed his place guarding his captain and the little Winchester that carried him.

She couldn't help wondering what the French man had done to result in his fleeing France. It was obvious he didn't care for his dragon properly, and she couldn't help wondering if they would be able to persuade the dragon to take an English captain.

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All in all, they'd come away with 16 French prisoners, and learned that the French Captain had ordered his dragon to attack despite the fact that the blue gray had done sever damage to one of their beasts a week ago when they'd drawn their guns on his captain.

Captain Hollin took them down into one of the fields large enough to hold the both his dragon and the larger dragon following her. Crescendium and the other non ill dragons landed not far behind, their unfortunate French passengers being taken into custody even as Captain Hollin hollered at a nearby lieutenant to fetch a surgeon.

Jane was just considering what to do with the unconscious French Captain, when Hollin rather briskly informed her. "They boy's one of ours."

She looked and saw that the unconscious figure Hollin held cradled to his chest was indeed a young boy not much older than her own Emily. She nearly sat down in shock. "How in the hell did a 13 year old end up across the French lines?"

The answer was not what she expected, and the speech was slow and halting as if the Dragon was carefully thinking about each word and how to say it before he spoke. The words "He" "Orphaned" and "War" were the only parts actually understandable but it got the message across.

_The bloody frogs had kidnapped one of their war orphans!_

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	5. Chapter 5

A.N before anyone jumps on me about the year two characters actually met in cannon, I would like to say that I plead fan fiction and beg forgiveness as I planned the story a little differently before tweaking it, and just realized the two met in Harry's fifth year but still need the character so yay fan fiction. Also if there are approximately 1457 days in four years and a few extra days. This means that for every day that passes in Harry's world, a little more than seven days pass in Temeraire's.

* Sirius the star was named for the Greek word Seirios which means burning, fitting since it's one of the four brightest stars in the sky. Since most Dragon names are Latin or Jane assumed that when Sirius said his name she thought he meant the Greek.

* im not Sure about Europe but in America that's not covered until jr. high, or high school depending on the school district.

Forgive me if my info on Greenland being part of Denmark is wrong I'm American, and I don't remember covering it in our 1 semester of world history. So I googled it.

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Jane sighed as she finished off the last of the letters she was sending out to the three closest Coverts. The rest of the Admiralty had made their decision in regards to Seirios, the wild dragon that had fled France with young Evan Black. She'd learned that much from the dragon despite his limited ability to actually speak English he had been able to convey several key points. The Admiralty had decided it would be best if a valuable Heavyweight combat dragon, particularly a Fire-breather was _not_ in the control of a hormonal thirteen year old boy with absolutely no military background. They wanted her to accept the boy into the Aerial corps, but as a Cadet. Required to work his way up through the ranks, and prove his worth to the corps before being given another chance to harness a Dragonet.

They wanted the fire breather on hand to protect the channel – something that wasn't likely to happen if both captain and dragon had no experience to speak of.

Honestly she had to agree with the sentiment about the boy's age, however she was also very well aware of the difficulty in convincing a Dragon to accept a different Captain. Temeraire was a very good example of how difficult the prospect could be. But Laurence had a clear advantage over young Evan Black; while the man had had no experience as an Aviator, he had had years of naval experience to fall back on.

The boy didn't have that luxury –

She'd need to find a way to bring him up to speed and fast because if what she'd seen of Seirios's behavior towards the boy was any indication, he would fly with Evan and no other. As it was the dragon had not allowed the surgeon to take the boy out of his sight, and he'd thrown a _royal fit _at the sight of the boy's back after the surgeon had cut his shirt away.

Not that she blamed the beast, she'd just about vomited at the sight of the scars that littered the child's back. The sight of belt marks, and other worse scars had set Seirios into a rage the likes of which she had never seen. He'd destroyed several trees with his tail, mantling over the boy like a Hawk protecting it's young and roared in pure rage, before setting the remains of the three cows she'd had brought to him earlier alight.

The brilliant blue flames had reduced the bones to ash in under a minute and then started in on the stones under the pile. The water they'd dumped upon the flames had only made the situation worse. Rather than putting out the flames - they'd spread.

She'd frozen in shock for a second before calling frantically for the sand kept on hand to use on the acid Longwings would sometimes accidently spray. Smothering it had worked.

The incident however was a very good sign of how much the Dragon cared for his captain, and a damned good indication of just how badly he was likely to react to their attempts at getting him to accept a new captain.

The letters she'd just finished would be sent out by way of whatever currier beasts they could find that wasn't sick with the dragon plague.

The other Admirals were each to send one lieutenant who was willing to make the attempt – hopefully she'd be able to find either a new captain who was simultaneously suitable and acceptable to Seirios, or a few lieutenants with the potential to become a good first lieutenant to a wholly inexperienced child who'd been thrust into a ridiculous position of responsibility and authority.

Thankfully, Laurence and Temeraire would be arriving soon along with one of the few Dragon surgeons in the entire bloody corps that had not been exposed to the plague.

She didn't want to risk infecting Seirios through some weird twist of exposure.

She'd have Keynes look at Seirios as soon as Temeraire landed.

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Laurence easily climbed down from his perch on Temeraire's back after Admiral Roland showed them which clearing they were to set down in. they'd landed first in the next clearing over in order to deposit Iskierka and Granby in their own clearing, Arkady and the other ferals had landed in the clearing on her other side.

"Mister Keynes, the Admiral would like you to examine the Dragon in the next clearing." He said calmly. The surgeon had wanted to stay behind in Edinburg to help with the autopsy of the dragon Victoriatus, but Lenton had sent him on to Dover with them something about needing a surgeon who hadn't been exposed to the plague to examine a Dragonet that while not ill with the plague, was in such poor shape that they didn't want to risk infection through even so minimal an exposure.

As such Keynes had found himself thrown onto the back of a Winchester before he'd even had a chance to get near any of the infected dragons and flown out to meet up with their group just hours before they reached Dover. Laurence watched Keys as the man headed off to the next clearing, turning he set about making sure Temeraire was stripped of his harness, fed and comfortable before heading off to Iskierka's clearing to speak with Jane and Granby.

John was expressing his lament at his dragon's current lack of disciple to the Admiral who seemed to simply be relieved at the prospect of finally having a fire-breather in the Arial corps. "You did a fine Job keeping her harnessed without a single head of cattle to your name, and no resources to supply constant food for her save what Temeraire could provide. Still she can burn all the trees in her clearing if she wants. They Navy will be happy at least, two fire-breathers of our own at last. Captain I am very happy to confirm you in your rank." That said she placed the second pair of gold bars upon Grandby's shoulders. "Well done Captain, give her as much to eat as she wishes, let's see if we can't make up for any growth she may have lost. Get her started on Longwing maneuvers in the morning. I don't know if she can injure herself with her flame like a Longwing can, better not to risk it."

Something she'd said earlier had registered with Laurence and judging by the look on John's face, he'd caught it as well though neither of them had interrupted the Admiral's speech.

"Two sir?" Granby enquired after a second's hesitation.

Jane smiled "Aye two, although I'd say Seirios is more of a Fire – spitted then a Fire-breather, close enough at any rate."

They made their way over to the clearing shared by Arkady and the other Ferals, where an amused Jane negotiated payment for the services of the feral Dragons. At length they came to an agreement and Jane led them out of the clearing and back the way they'd come.

"about two months after you left for china the French raided a few small boarder villages, we think that's where the boy came from, one of the villages was reported to have no survivors, but there were bodies unaccounted for. According to Seirios, young Evan Black is a war orphan. I have no idea how he wound up behind French lines or how he managed to snatch Seirios out of French hands, but he did."

By the time she'd finished explaining they had reached the Clearing on the far side of Temeraire's and Laurence got his first real look at the Dragon Seirios.

_Burning _he thought was as appropriate a name for a Fire-spitting dragon as, "little Spark" was for a Fire-breather.

The Dragon had his neck straight out along the ground, his mouth open wide, Keynes standing calmly inside of his mouth holding a lantern.

"Admiral, Captain." He greeted stepping out of the dragon's mouth as if there was nothing even remotely perturbing about climbing into the mouth of a clearly emaciated dragon. "He looks to be about Six months old, physically healthy despite his gaunt appearance, feed him twice a day as much as he'll eat and He'll be fit to fly soon. As far as I can tell he's venomous, with two different sets of venom glands. He might be capable of firing them individually, he might not, but judging by his musculature I'd say he can spit his venom, much like a Longwing or a Sharpspitter. Where is the dragon's captain?"

"Captain?" asked a small voice from between the Dragon's talons.

They turned in that direction, and saw a small thin boy naked from the waist up, his pants held up by what looked like poor quality rope, rising to his feet and leaning against the Dragon's chest. Seirios lowered his head and nuzzled the boy affectionately. The boy laughed and reaching up caressed the dragon's nose. The dragon hissed something at him, in a manner that reminded Laurence of the Sea-serpent that had tried to take on the HMS Allegiance. He was absolutely shocked when the boy hissed back.

"Sirius says he told you that my parents were killed in the war?" he said softly.

Jane nodded, and briskly sent one of the midwingmen who were milling around to fetch some food for the boy. Who promptly turned to Sirius and enquired if he'd eaten, only relaxing after the dragon nodded.

"So young man, would you care to explain how you found yourself across French lines, and in possession of a dragon?" Admiral Roland enquired firmly.

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Evan paused at the question, guessing that his answer was going to be very important. He embraced his Slytherin side, drawing upon the same cunning that he'd been using to stay alive while in the care of his _oh so loving relatives. Thanks to them he was very good at stringing together half truths._

"My parents were killed in the war," he began softly. Technically it was the truth, just not this war. He hadn't been in muggle school long enough to know much about this time period, but he had learned a bit about this war.* "they came into our home and killed my father first, then my mother as she tried to protect me. After that I was taken, mistreated and t-they forced me and three others to raid the nests of feral dragons, Sirius was their watching me from a distance. After I got the egg they sent me after, t-they were going to kill me. Sirius, he followed. When he grabbed me, I – I thought he was going to eat me. But he saved me instead."

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Luna Lovegood sat up in bed and smiled, every night for as long as she could remember she'd dreamed, sometimes it was silly things like having her dead mother back or riding on the back of a dragon, but other times her dreams were shrouded in fog, and she had to search for them.

These dreams almost always came true.

She remembered the first one with vivid celerity. She'd dreamed that her mother had been killed in an accident while creating a new spell. In the morning she'd begged her mother not to go, and in order to show her that everything was fine her mother had taken her to work with her, were she'd been an unwilling witness to her mother's death. The shields meant to protect the wizards and witches from spell damage had failed, and Diana Lovegood had been severely injured when she'd used herself to shield her daughter from the blast. Luna had watched as her mother died before the Healers had even been able to get to them.

This dream had been one of the ones that were shrouded in fog.

She'd met Harry Potter once or twice in her short time at Hogwarts, they weren't exactly friends. But he had a good heart and she didn't think he was capable of what they'd accused him of. As far as she was concerned if Harry said He – who- must – not –be-named was back then he was back.

In her dream she'd seen the old ministry building in the mountains of Greenland; long ago abandoned by Denmark's wizarding community. * She'd seen the way it twisted and turned into an underground labyrinth. She'd walked through its halls until she'd seen what looked like an enormous Black Fire Opal suspended in some form of potion.

She'd seen a physically 18 prehaps 19 year old Harry Standing in front of a large dragon that didn't match any dragon breed she'd ever seen, but she'd also seen herself, standing beside him, with a nearly identical dragon behind her.

They were somewhere she'd never seen before, and Harry had been dressed in a manor remnisent of a British naval officer, but in bottle green instead of blue. In her dream she'd seen the rest of her class mates barely any older then when she'd seen them at the end of class this summer, in her dream she'd been older then Hermione, whom she sensed had gone with her and Dumbledore to find Harry.

It confused her, the dream was a bundle of contradictions.

She got out of bed and headed down to her father's room, she needed to see if they could visit Greenland this summer.

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Admiral Roland sighed as she surveyed the 9 lieutenants in front of her, 6 of them had come from Dover Convert itself, the first officers of several of the downed Dragons.

"You are all here because you indicated to your various admirals that you would be willing to be a first lieutenant to a much younger officer, one whom we had originally intended to give a much smaller currier beast to, who by pure accident wound up captain to a Heavy weight combat dragon. That was the story I asked them to tell you, to make sure that you where the right people for this mission. Here is the truth, as you all know the French raided coastal villages near Cornwall. What you don't know is that French forces Kidnapped at least four war orphans and forced them to raid the nests of Feral dragons in order to produce more dragon eggs for the French air force." She waited for the understandable uproar that statement caused to die down before continuing. "here is what we know, one of them was killed and 14 year old Evan Black managed to bring this news home to England along with a very valuable Venomous dragon with a bladed tail and the Ability to spit fire. I don't know how but Cadet Black somehow managed to get this dragon to us across French lines despite the fact that the dragon in question was born wild, already months old, without a proper harness and without any form of food beyond what the two caught for themselves. I can't begin to express my astonishment at the boy's achievements, in my opinion someday soon he will make a fine Aviator. Sentiments aside however, the rest of the Admiralty wishes to see such a valuable beast in the hands of a more experienced Aviator. Given the likelihood of failure in this mission, I will not ask that any of you actually spend your right to promotion. Rather I ask that you make an attempt to talk this fire-spitting, venomous dragon into accepting one of you as his captain. Assure him that it is for Evan's best interests as well as his own. You are all here because you have all made it clear that you would be willing to aid Captain Black should he retain the captaincy that comes with his Heavyweight dragon. If however you feel unable to perform in the roll of first lieutenant to a young boy with absolutely no military training then speak now and you will be relieved of this duty."

"Sir?" lieutenant Elizabeth Rankin, spoke up quietly, and Jane couldn't help wondering if she was trying to live down her older brother's treatment of his dragon or following in his footsteps. She'd showed up at a Convert at the tender age of nine, having been unable to convince her mother to let her Join the Aerial corps she'd run away in the hopes of at least being close to the dragons. Her scandalized mother had sent a missive in reply to their sending word of her daughter's whereabouts that while not exactly disowning the girl had made it clear that if she wanted the life of a servant she could have it.

"Yes lieutenant?" she enquired mildly.

"sir, if the young man has no training as an Aviator I volunteer to tutor him should the Dragon refuse a different handler." She replied tucking a lock of ash blond hair behind one ear.

Startled Jane inclined her head, "come I'll escort you to Sirius's clearing." She ordered mildly, leading the way out of her office. Sirius and Black had been in Dover for three days, hopefully that would be long enough for Sirius to be willing to let Black out of his sight long enough to get the boy measured for new clothing in town.

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	6. Chapter 6

Evan sat quietly between Sirius's front legs.

"I feel kind of funny," he admitted after a few minutes.

Sirius lowered his great head, "Funny how, Oh only true heir of The Noble and most Ancient house of Black?"

Evan blinked at that, but replied "like a part of me has been stuck in a shrinking box and only the smallest sliver is able to escape, And what do you mean Heir of the house Black?"

Sirius chuckled, "Quite simply pup," he hissed. "When you were born I named you my heir presumptive, should I fail to produce a son of my own, all of my worldly possessions fall to you." He lifted his wings slightly in what Evan imagined was his equivalent of a shrug. I can claim no male heirs, and as my father never actually disowned me for standing against the House of Black, and my little brother proceeded even our father into the ground, you are heir to the House of Black. I have never changed my will; as such you become both Lord Potter and Lord Black on your 17th birthday. I wish I was a fly on the Malfoy wall when they learn of it." He sighed becoming more serious, "As amusing as that mental image is, I believe what you are feeling is your magic retreating into your core."

"I don't understand." Evan replied.

Sirius sighed. "I don't believe we simply went back in time pup. Things are simply too different. I don't know where we are, but where ever that is I - I don't think they have magic."

"So I'm becoming a Squib?" Evan asked his voice shrill even in their not quite parsletongue language.

"Of course not." Sirius was quick to reassure. "Just because there is no magic here doesn't mean you lose your magic, it just retreats. Family magic still exist, and theoretically anything you can do without your wand is still available for your use, but without a special magical talisman that draws energy from the life around you, you can do nothing else."

Evan blinked, "What type of magic can I do without my wand?"

Sirius snorted, "Well according to theory, if you have enough raw power you can do just about anything you could do with your wand without one. However, because of your age, while you're not entirely dependent on your wand yet, you also don't have the focus or the control required to intentionally perform wandless magic. With practice you specifically could probably do just about anything. You turned James's Hair green when you were only a few months old. We actually discussed binding part of your magic so you wouldn't accidently hurt yourself after you levitated Socrates - your mother's ridiculously large cat. Lily decided that it was safer to leave your magic intact after we learned that He-who-must-not-be-named might have been after you. You are capable of wandless magic, even now you're speaking Parsletongue for instance. However I would suggest picking what you personally are strongest at and working on that. Don't be discouraged if it takes you years of practice to master even a few spells, Dumbledore for example can only do a few spells without his wand."

Evan considered his words carefully, "Potions is defiantly out then," he replied mildly. "For all I'm okay at it when Snape isn't breathing down my neck and making snarky comments, I don't know if I could find any magical plants in a non-magical world. Hermione bought me a book in second year entitled _Non-Magical Potions, a Study of emergency Muggle ingredient substitutions, _but it's in my trunk and I don't know if I can remember all of the necessary ingredients in any case. Astronomy while not magical may actually prove useful." He added thinking aloud. "Care of Magical creatures was utterly useless both at home and now – I doubt I need to know how to slay you. Divination falls under that heading as wall. Transfiguration is hard enough with a wand; I don't even want to think about trying it without one. That Leaves Charms and Defense," he finished.

"Which is your better subject?" Sirius asked mildly before adding. "And what in the world possessed you to take such useless electives? Your Mother would not have been pleased. Honestly what possessed you to take Divination of all things?" Sirius's tone was scandalized.  
Evan shrugged "Ron wanted to take it, and it sounded interesting. It's dead boring though, and I could do without professor Trelawney predicting my rather gruesome death every class period." He paused briefly before asking, "Had you raised me, would you have allowed me to take those electives?"  
Sirius sighed and gently rubbed at the top of his nose with his the talons of his right hand. The gesture was so absurd, yet so familiar that Evan couldn't help smiling.  
Sirius's reply when he finally gave it was firm. "You and I would have gone over you grades and what you hoped to do with yourself after you graduated. Then I likely would have insisted that you drop divination and take either ancient runes or Arithmancy."  
Evan nodded. "Do you think I could learn to use defensive spells without my wand?"  
"Evan I think you can do anything you set your mind to. However for now I would suggest that you take the time to consider a few spells that would be useful and concentrate on them." Sirius paused before adding, "I also plan to start teaching you to Apparate soon. It is not something you need your wand for though it does make things easier to start with and the ability could save your life someday."

Evan looked up at the dragon that had once been his godfather, "I'll give some thought to what spells could save my life or be particularly useful in our present situation." He promised before enquiring can dragons Apparate? If not can you still teach me how to?"  
Sirius sighed, "According to the book I read on dragon breeds, all dragons have a magical core, but the Northern Fireopal was heavily hunted for the magic it could add to a potion. I don't know if it's truth, but according to Myth the Fireopal could Apparate, and often did when hunting or faced with a large group of attackers. I will see if I can manage it. There is no magic here, even if it is possible in our world, I don't know if I can manage it here."

Evan nodded, and touched his godfather's soft, nose. Marveling again at how soft he felt despite his scales, it reminded him of the silk fabric of his Invisibility cloak. Sirius was the only family he had left the only parent he'd ever known, he made a decision as he stroked the silky nose, he would learn to harness magic without the use of his wand, and he would become the best military officer he could be – for Sirius's sake.

And maybe they could both finally find a home.

Sirius shifted slightly, "How much do you know of '_Noble Society'_" he hissed after a moment's hesitation. "How much do you know of your House and her policies? Have you been shown your lineage?"

Evan looked at him, visibly startled, "Only what Professor Dumbledore has told me." He replied after a seconds though.

"Which is?" Sirius enquired.

Evan smiled, "I know that I am the last of the Potters, that the Potters are a 'light' family, and always have been. I know every one of us has been sorted into Gryffindor. I know they fought against Voldemort, they left me a vault, oh and I know the family motto."

Sirius gaped at him for a moment his jaw actually dropping open in a manner reminiscent of a snake with a meal. "Dare I ask what the old coot told you your family motto was?"

Evan blinked, "Dumbledore told me it was 'misericordiae pertinet et ad omnem virtutem et fortitudinem leonis saevus.'* He said it meant 'mercy, duty, and a lion's fierce courage and bravery before all' - "

Sirius's enraged roar cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "About the only thing true in that is that you are the last son of the House Potter and that your family fought Voldemort." Sirius snapped, his fangs displayed and his mane of horns standing on out as he snarled in Parseltongue. "While your family's has proudly worn the Gryffindor badge, they have not only been sorted to Gryffindor. Predominantly the Potter house has produced Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, but they have also worn the badges of Hufflepuff and Slytherin with pride. As for your family motto -"

They were interrupted by Admiral Roland clearing her throat, "Have we come at a bad time?" she enquired mildly.

"No Admiral," Evan replied at the same time as Sirius hissed "Yes"

"Sirius," Evan hissed back scandalized.

Sirius snorted, and shook himself vigorously in a manor reminiscent of a dog shaking off water, before cocking his head to the side like a dog and replying "Very well, we shall continue this discussion later. It is time you knew the truth of your heritage."

Evan inclined his head. "I have no problem with that Sirius," he said softly.

Sirius inclined his head, "And the motto of the House Potter is 'Super omnes uicerant' - Above all unconquered."

Evan smiled; somehow he liked that motto better.

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Elizabeth Rankin gazed at the beautiful dragon before her in shock. He was still somewhat gaunt though she understood the beast had put on weight since they'd made it back to England. The hissed conversation between Dragon and boy was interesting and she wondered how the boy had learned the feral dragon's language in such a short time period.

She couldn't help the small flare of hope that sparked in her chest at the sight of him. She'd fallen in love with Dragons the first time she'd seen her brother's dragon Levitas. The Idea of an Aviator's life had appealed to her from the beginning, and she'd run away from home at the age of nine, hoping to find some way to live close to the Dragons. She'd thought her dreams had come true when she'd realized that there were female Cadets, and learned that the highly valuable Longwings would only accept female captains. It hadn't taken long, however for her to start noticing the differences in Levitas and the other dragons. At the age of 13 she'd tried desperately to convince the little Winchester to take her as a captain instead of Jeremy. Levitas had refused, but Jeremy had found out and thrown a rather large fit, and their father had demanded that the person responsible for the 'attempted theft' be severely punished. Jeremy had pitched a fit demanding that her attempt be considered her chance at promotion, until finally the admiralty had folded to their demands.

This was her only chance at captaincy.

Yet was she the right person for this dragon?

Would she be able to convince him to leave Mr. Black

Even if the dragon could be swayed she was the lowest ranked of the nine officers given a chance at this harnessing.

She listened quietly as the Admiral convinced the dragon to let her take his companion to buy clothing.

"Pardon me ma'am but how am I to pay for my uniform?" the boy asked softly.

Admiral Roland gave the boy a small smile, "the Admiralty has decided to award you the proper prize money for a fire-breathing heavy weight, regardless the Arial Corps will be handling your first few uniforms."

She watched as the Admiral and the boy left the convert, before turning her attention back to the task at hand. No sooner had they left then Lieutenant Ward stepped into the Dragon's clearing his head held high. They'd been informed that while the dragon didn't speak English he did understand it.

What followed was a lesson in stupidity.

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Lieutenant Marcus Ward gazed up at the Dragon that he was to captain. When Admiral Hill had offered him the chance to serve on board one of the few healthy dragons left in the force he'd jumped at the Chance, the news that the Dragon was a heavyweight who'd only just been harnessed and by a boy who'd been slated for currier duty had only made the assignment all the more enticing. He'd planned to persuade the dragon around to accepting a new more experienced Handler.

A heavyweight in the hands of a boy was unimaginable.

He would ruin the Dragon.

That such a valuable animal was in the hands of a child was an insult to the entire Arial corps.

That the Dragon in question was venomous and capable of spitting fire only made the affront to his years of service even worse.

He watched the Admiral – dressed for once in woman's clothing – lead the scrawny scrap of flesh that was his new dragon's former captain away with a sense of elation. He was glad the Admiralty recognized the foolishness of having a child captain a heavyweight. He would do the service proud, he would harness the beast and then the admiralty could do whatever they wanted with the brat. Put him in service or put him out he didn't care. All that mattered was the dragon in front of him. He gazed up at the beast noting the odd tailfins the wickedly hooked blade at the end of his tail and his crowning mane of protective horns and knew that here was his ticket to greatness.

He'd use this dragon well in service of the Corps; together they'd make the French rue the day they'd ever looked across the channel.

No the very idea that a Fire-spitting, venomous dragon could be in the hands of an untrained civilian boy child was damn sacrilegious and would not be tolerated.

It was more of an affront to the service then that Damned Navy man who'd somehow harnessed a Chinese Celestial. Unlike who ever they'd gotten to attempt the re-harnessing, he would not fail!

And it looked as if the brat had done part of his work for him if the dragon's earlier enraged roar was anything to go by.

"Well, let's take a look at you then." He said briskly, marching up to the dragon. "Stand up so that I may better assess you."

The Dragon gazed down at him out of odd slit pupil eyes and snorted, but otherwise remained motionless, the great bladed tail twitching slightly behind him in a manor more readily associated with a cat.

"I am Marcus Ward, your new captain." He said in his most commanding tone of voice. "You will obey my orders."

The Dragon's only response was to shift his weight and lower his head to the ground, utterly ignoring him.

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Sirius groaned in annoyance, he'd been listening to this gormless bugger go on and on for the past 3 hours. The man was lucky that telling him off in a language he'd actually understand was currently more of a chore then it was worth.

Judging by the interaction between this codger and the 8 men and women behind him, he'd gotten the impression that each and every one of them hoped to be his 'new captain' though this loud-mouthed codpiece had yet to let any of them so much as address him.

A shame as that at least would have been entertaining.

He could have counted the number of times they unintentionally mimicked each other. Instead he studied his clearing as he patiently awaited the return of his godson, and contemplated the addition of a moat to the clearing, to help keep the pesky unwanted military officers out.

Had James been here the two of them would have been making bets on everything from how long it was going to take Ward to grow a brain, pitch a fit, give up and leave, or perhaps do them all a favor and have an apoplexy.

Although Sirius knew he was not nearly lucky enough for any of that to happen in the near future. He yawned hugely and refrained from making mocking gestures with his hand – mostly because he wasn't quite sure he was dexterous enough in this form to pull it off, and if he was he shuddered to think of the damage he could unintentionally do himself with his wickedly long claws.

So instead he waited for his 'Captain' to return, silently bemoaning his and Evan's somewhat unwilling induction into the military. Sure he'd been an Auror before he'd foolishly ran off after that rat Wormtail, when he should have taken Harry and gotten the boy safely behind the formidable wards of either the Black or Potter Family Manor homes.

Ward he decided, rather uncharitably, bore a striking resemblance to a boar in a temper. Complete with huffing snorts. The man said something about Evan's 'obvious stupidity or lack of care for him' that made him itch to draw his wand and hex the little shit until he understood why the Marauder name was still revered by pranksters decades after they'd all graduated.

And then it happened – the little snot said the one thing that made both the dragon's instincts and the part of him that had and would always be a parent – even if only a godparent roar for blood.

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"Not that it matters, you are my dragon now," Lieutenant Ward snapped in frustration, his temper and mouth getting the better of him in the face of such a bitter disappointment. The Damn beast wasn't even acknowledging his presence in the clearing. That boy is not coming anywhere near you again, he's returning for you. He's lying in a ditch where he belongs by now!" As soon as it came out of his mouth he knew he'd made a grievous error.

All of the dragon's languor vanished in an instant!

Lunging to his feet he roared in rage, the horns on his neck and back standing straight out, rattling together ominously. It was a truly breathtaking sight.

"Look out!" Lieutenant Rankin shouted, as the wickedly hooked tail arched gracefully through the air coming up over the dragon's shoulder and imbedding itself in the earth at his feet.

Lieutenant Ward hissed in pain and looked down, the dragon had neatly rendered his clothing unusable by slicing through the fabric of his coat an shirt; slicing the buttons of his coat in half. He however was intact if one discounted the razor thin long line that ran down his chest, which was now starting to bleed freely. The dragon hissed at them all displaying not only his teeth but a double set of needle like fangs before he unfurled his wings in one swift movement and flung himself aloft vanishing quickly from sight.

"He's headed for town," one of the other Lieutenants cried in horrified dismay.

Ward flinched at that proclamation, the Admiralty was going to break him for this – and he'd be lucky if Roland didn't skin him and use his hide for boots.

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AN

So please read and review. And I would like to ask for my readers opinions, should Harry be able to learn spells without his wand or should Sirius's transformation have been nothing but a rather large bit of accidental magic brought on by desperation? Also if Harry is still capable of spell work should Sirius be able to apperate? This is a thought that popped into my head; I can make it work with the story either way and while the choice is ultimately mine I would appreciate your opinions. All Latin comes from google translate and my British slang comes from an online British slang dictionary so I apologize if they are incorrect. Until next time ;)


	7. Chapter 7

A.N

Thanks for the input, guys I have taken it all under consideration and have found that it only strengthens my own thoughts on the subject. For those of you who are curious quiddatch never crossed my mind when I designed Sirius' dragon form, or the way he flies. Originally I had intended him to be a strange mix of all the things I liked about Harry Potter dragons. However, while I was still solidifying my mental design I had the pleasure of seeing a Goshawk in flight at a falconry demonstration and fell absolutely in love with this avian master of maneuverability. Since then I have modified Sirius to reflect that style of flight. As for my spelling and grammar and the weird little mistakes that really shouldn't be there as English is my first language and I have a very good education, I would like to apologize. However I ask for your patience as large chunks of this fic have been written on my cell phone (which for some reason keeps trying to type the word cellophane.)

On with the fic

HPT

Lieutenant Rankin cursed as she sprinted away from her stupidly frozen colleagues and made for the next clearing, praying that the dragon Temeraire and his captain had returned from their patrol. As it was Temeraire was the only dragon fit to fly with any hope of controlling Sirius should the enraged dragonet choose to 'avenge' his 'murdered' captain by rampaging through Dover. Honestly she had no idea what had possessed Ward, to say something so stupid when he knew full well the possible consequences.

Idiot was lucky that dragon hadn't killed him.

She ran into Temeraire's clearing just in time. The dragon's crew was in the process of stripping him of his harness."Captain Laurence," she called franticly.

The man turned towards her, "Yes lieutenant?" He enquired faltering over her name.

"Rankin sir," she supplied quickly, noting the look that briefly graced his features at the sound of her surname. Idly she wondered if he knew and disapproved of her elder brother.

"Damn him for a fool." Laurence exclaimed once she'd apprised him of the situation. The captain started shouting orders, quickly getting his crewmen back onboard. Rankin didn't wait to find out if he had orders for her, she ran off to find the nearest Winchester.

She had to warn the admiral about the situation.

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Sirius was frantic.

He had to find his godson.

His Harry, his Evan they were one and the same. The boy had wormed his way into his heart the second James had placed him in his arms just minutes after his birth. He'd felt such pride, joy and hope flood his soul in that moment. He'd sworn to himself he would protect Harry. Just as he'd sworn it again just hours later as James and Lily cast the necessary spells to bind Him to Harry as a surrogate parent. Bound by the magic of both houses to love and protect the boy with his very being in Lou of his actual parents.

He froze as the realization hit, and then beat his wings twice to power his flight.

He knew how to find out exactly where his godson was.

The only problem was he didn't know if he could do magic in this form.

He knew the change was permanent – even if they ever made their way back to their own world. There were only five documented cases of someone transforming themselves into a magical creature. Only one had managed to find their way back to human form after years spent in their new form. He frankly didn't have half as much raw power as Morgan la Fay. It was said she didn't practice magic again for nearly a year after transforming back, she was so magically exhausted.

No, he would never be human again.

Surprisingly that didn't bother him.

He felt this likely a result of how much time he'd spent as a dog these past 13 years. Although, if he was honest being in human form had started to feel odd by the time he'd been reunited with his godson that night by the Whomping willow. Truthfully he couldn't even blame this development on Azkaban. Of all the Marauders he'd spent the most time in his anamagus form. James had even found him curled up on the foot of his bed as Padfoot more than once. The big black dog's form had been a good way to escape the trials and tribulations of his troubled home life. It had been his only means of escaping his own life.  
He'd asked Evan if he wanted to go back to being Harry after his first encounter with the orange French dragon. The boy had refused – and after hearing his reasoning Sirius could understand. All Harry had ever wanted, and been deigned was the chance at Love, understanding and normality. Harry Potter was a burden on his relatives, hated and abused for the magical gift he'd been born with. The Wizarding world had been entirely too fickle, alternately hating and loving the child they both hailed as a savior and scorned as the next dark lord. The closest thing to understanding he'd ever gotten was in the form of a few friends who'd stood by him to the end, as for normality – he wasn't even a normal wizard.

Sirius had nearly had a heart attack when his godson had told him about his four years at Hogwarts. Had he not been on the run and now in an alternate world the Headmaster would have been getting a Marauder's special howler – the kind that exploded, leaving the only recipient covered in noxious goo. Its permeating stench lingered for days or even weeks. After which Harry would have been promptly disenrolled and shipped off to whichever school of magic had the best reputation.

By the time they'd made their discovery Harry had been Evan for nearly three weeks, the only three weeks he could remember where he'd had a family. Harry had not wanted to give up his life as Evan, Evan who had everything he wanted: a godfather who loved and cared for him. Who wanted what was best for him, and was willing to stand by him – even if said godfather happened to be a dragon.

He focused on that connection, the connection that had been growing stronger and stronger with each day they'd spent in this world, each day they'd spent getting to know each other, moving slowly but steadily towards the relationship they should have had all along.

He focused on his love of Harry –

of the boy who now chose to go by another name

Evan Black his son in all but blood.

The boy he loved more than life itself.

He focused on the one living creature besides Remus who he would willingly die for and slowly carefully enunciating each Latin word aloud he spoke the words of one of the two spells designed to bring aid to a lost child in times of need.

He didn't know if it would work but he sure as hell was going to try.

Family magic was old and strong each generation building upon the last from the birth of a line until its inevitable demise. Yet it never really ends. The family's magic lived on in each and every one of its descendants. A spell cast using the family's magic pulled a small amount of power from every living blood relative up to five generations removed as well as drawing raw power and magical force from the communal pool of magic that was left behind when a witch or wizard died. It was this power that sustained ghosts, it was also why there were no muggle ghosts. When two magical people married their family magics' resonated together, and built up with each new member giving children access to both family's magic, making each child stronger by giving them access to more of the ambient magic, despite the fact that it in no way did anything for to the strength of the individual child's magical core.

This meant that even a very weak wizard Like Wormtail could still cast powerful spells in defense of his family and bring up the ancient wards cast by more powerful ancestors because he was tied into them by blood magic. Squibs however lacked a magical core and thus lacked the ability to even sense their family's hereditary magic. Of all whiches and wizards only those who were muggle born lacked the ability to pull power from that valuable resource. This was entirely due to their lack of other magical family members.

It was one of the many reasons most pure blood families looked down on both muggle borns and squibs. By their standards since spells involving family magic drew upon the collective magical power of the whole line, muggle borns where considered to be less powerful then even the least powerful of purebloods. They were also thought to contribute nothing in terms of magic to a marriage.

A few centuries ago marrying a muggle born woman had been seen as less distasteful then marrying a muggle born man, since women at least, brought with them a dowry to add to the family's vaults.

The spell he was using, was designed to use with family magic, and it came in two varieties. The first drew power from the line and brought parent to a missing child by simply showing the way in flashes of light, which looked rather like lightning. The one he was currently using however drew the necessary power from every living member of the bloodline and dipped into the stored magic left behind by generations to quite literally transport the Parent to the child's location.

The only problem was – he forgot that he and Evan were the only two magical people on this world

He and Harry shared blood through James' grandmother who was a daughter of the House of Black, which only added to the power of their bond as he'd become an honorary member of the Potter House upon the completion of his oaths as Evan's godfather. Had they not shared blood the spells that tied them together would have given him limited access to the Potter family magic until Evan came of age and claimed Lordship of the House Potter. Because they actually shared blood he could use either the Black family magic or the Potter Family magic to power his spell.

He uttered the last word, secure in the knowledge that whoever was about to hurt his godson was about to have a very bad day.

It wasn't until he started to feel the distinctive sensations that accompanied apperation that he realized his folly.

"Finite Incantatum," he shouted desperately. Praying he hadn't just killed them both.

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Laurence clung to Temeraire's back as the great black dragon flew on in pursuit of the young Heavyweight Sirius. They were having a hard time locating the other dragon, his marbled underbelly blending into the cloud cover a little too well for his tastes, idly he thought of Captain James and his little Grayling Volly. Volly had been mottled gray all over blending in perfectly with the sky around him. He was fairly certain that the little Dragon was better camouflaged then Sirius, but still.

Then it occurred to him

"Temeraire go up," he called. "You must get above him; it's likely one of the only way's we're going to find him in this damn fog."

Temeraire angled himself up, climbing higher and higher in response. He leveled out, turning his head in different directions as he searched for the other beast.

After a moment he found him, and they got their first look at him in flight

For now the dragon was only about 60 feet long, Laurence estimated that Lily was still slightly larger. Almost half of his length was tail, which made him wary of approaching from any direction. He didn't want firsthand experience of what his tail blade could do.

"Use caution Temeraire," he called, however before Temeraire could make any reply there was a great noise not unlike the cry of a full broadside from a hundred gun man of war. Briefly disoriented the other dragon was again lost in the clouds.

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Jane sighed, young Evan Black was a smart boy and the fact that they would have to try and separate him from his dragon was painful. She knew that it was the right thing to do the boy was to young for the front lines of this war, not with no military training to speak of. Regardless in the end it was Sirius' decision. She didn't know which one he would make.

In many ways it was hard, her own Emily was one of Temeraire's Ensigns. However Emily had been born for the service, in harness since before she could walk and training for an Aviator's life since she was seven years old.

Evan Black couldn't claim the same. She didn't know how the boy had been raised and she didn't know his feelings and thoughts on Dragons. Laurence had been the exception to the non-aviator viewpoint on dragons. Even if his opinion had changed after meeting Temeraire, Captain Rankin was solid proof that not everyone changed their opinion after exposure to Dragons. She hoped that Black didn't turn out like Rankin had.

Still the boy showed promise and seemed to genuinely enjoy the company of his dragon.

He'd already agreed to do what was best for Sirius and honor the dragon's decision,

Although the boy's belief that Sirius would find someone more worthy of him was disconcerting and made her wonder exactly what had been done to the child. Whatever those monsters had done they'd destroyed his self-esteem utterly in the process.  
It was a real shame particularly since it would be a handicap for the boy until he regained his self-confidence.  
Which could take years

Regardless of the boy's self image issues he was quite intelligent, though he seemed disinclined to believe it. He'd asked several pointed, and very well thought out questions about the Aviators, other dragon breeds and their ability to speak a human tongue.

"How is it that you learned to speak Sirius' language so quickly?" she enquired mildly as they made their way through the town. Evan had been fitted for his uniforms today and they'd managed to acquire a few basic articles of clothing that were at least better tailored to him then the over large rags he'd arrived in. His uniform clothing should at least be arriving within the week.

The boy regarded her for a moment. "I-" he looked down as if afraid of her response.  
She waited patiently for him to find his courage, the child had been through a lot; and while the time would eventually come - and soon - when he would have to be introduced to the chain of command, today she wanted him to learn to be comfortable in his own skin again.  
Hopefully they'd make an aviator out of him yet.

If her instinct was correct, he'd make a great aviator, a great captain, if they could get him past the damage that those animals had done to him.  
"I don't know, I thought he was speaking English at first." Black admitted softly, "Just like with the sna-" he broke off abruptly and gazed up at her out of terrified, haunted Emerald eyes.

She blinked, and considered what he'd just said, both intentionally and accidently. Honestly she would have thought that they abuse he'd suffered had addled his wits, if she hadn't seen him having a hissed Conversation with a wild dragon just hours before. She decided to ignore the fact that the child had just somewhat unintentionally claimed to be able to speak with snakes. "So it sounds like English to you?" she enquired mildly.

Black opened his mouth to respond, and closed it abruptly; reaching desperately for the wall.

"Mr. Black?" she enquired, worried by the apparent dizzy spell. Her reflexes took over and she caught him as his knees buckled. She cursed; he was far too light for his age. She supposed the trip down to the city had exhausted him, it would take time for the boy to recover fully. Still she was shocked that he was so easily tired.

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Laurence swore, as they again searched for Sirius amidst the clouds, there was another almost deafening clap of thunder and abruptly they saw Sirius. The dragon seemed to just appear about two body lengths past his original position. The dragon's wings buckled and he fell out of the sky, careening towards the ground in an uncontrolled tumble.

Temeraire dove, attempting to get underneath the younger smaller dragon. "Everyone bellow!" Laurence called above the wind rushing past them. The topmen and ensigns followed his order with a swift and practiced ease. He alone remained in his normal place at the base of Temeraire's neck, and prayed that the panicked and flailing youngster didn't do them Temeraire any harm, when he was rescued.

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Sirius cursed his own stupidity, and what Remus had often called his 'hot-headed idiot streak' with everything he was as he flailed around in the air desperate to rite himself. He'd thrown everything he had into reversing the spell he'd cast using family magic, desperately trying to shield his godson from his stupid mistake. Praying the boy wasn't about to pay the price for his mistakes again and this time with his life.

His desperate attempt had worked – to a degree – he'd hopped to cancel the spell before he'd apperated, instead it looked as though the spell had still transported his body some 120ish feet. Had the act not put both his and Evan's lives in danger he would have been thrilled to know that he still had access to family magic in this form. Though it was slow to respond and extremely tiring, his wings had buckled from fatigue the moment he'd reappeared and had the need to find his Evan not been so great, he honestly would not be fighting so hard to right himself so he could remain in the air and go find Evan.

As it was all he currently wanted to do was find a nice spot to curl up in and sleep for the next week. Still he pushed all thoughts of rest out of his mind and concentrated on getting himself righted and his wings opened.

Not far from him a large black dragon dove, the men on his harness scrambling to get into the belly netting and Sirius couldn't help wondering why.

Finally he managed to use his tail to give himself just enough maneuverability to pull his tired body out of its graceless tumble, and snapped his wings open with great effort. He felt his wing joints wrench, and knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was going to pay for that move later.

It didn't matter, he had to rescue Evan.

He'd pay whatever price was demanded of him,

_After _his godson was safe!

At last Dover sprawled beneath him and he cursed his own stupidity when he realized he could have easily walked there had he still been human, there had been no need to apperate, and he could clearly see the people milling about below him in this form despite the height.

Evan was right, then, Wizards did rely on magic too much; when mundane means would suffice.

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Jane Roland cursed in a most unlady like fashion as she easily supported young Mr. Black's weight, she needed to get him back to the convert and in to see a doctor quickly. She didn't know what had happened to exhaust the child so quickly but she didn't think it was normal. She didn't even react when the shadow of a dragon fell over them, she was by far to use to the occurrence to even start having been raised to an aviator's life.

The shrieking of other people in the streets got her attention however,and she looked away from her charge to see what the fuss was about, the city was near enough to the convert that a dragon's shadow shouldn't cause mass panic.

A dragonett the size of a longwing landing/ collapsing in an ungraceful heap in the middle of the street however was an entirely different matter.

Sirius coiled around them as best he could, his great head leaning down, so that she could look him in the eye. She blinked in surprise and tried to suppress a shudder at how eerily his eyes were glowing when the light outside of the gloom cast by his mantled wings caught them, reflecting at her in an almost demonic ice blue. "He... Is… MINE." The dragon snarled, carefully enunciating each word. While outside the shelter of his wings people screamed.

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Evan sat quietly against Sirius' chest upon the broad black back of the dragon Temeraire as the huge creature carried them back to the convert. Sirius was … well pouting seemed the only way to describe it. After flying out to find him and exhausting them both magically Sirius had been forced to endure…

A great indignity

He'd been to exhausted to get himself back up into the air, and as such had to be carried back like an errant hatchling.

"Sirius, it's not that bad." Evan admonished softly, trying desperately not to fall asleep.

Sirius snorted and muttered something about how he was supposed to be "a big scary dragon" and "being carried like an infant."

A.N

So there you have it guy family magic still works, but it is very costly. Harry/Evan will still be able to perform limited magic, and I have decided that Sirius will not be able to apperate without the help of family magic that at the very least grounds them both for a while. Review please.


	8. Chapter 8

Sirius moaned in his sleep, and opened his eyes to the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. He gazed around in confusion. The pitch was arranged so that it looked more like a tumble of rocky outcroppings, towering stone ledges, and high precipices. A great dragon stood several meters away atop a rocky spire, behind it stood more of its kind.

More of his kind for they were one and all Northern Fireopals.

It towered above him, gazing at him out of slit pupiled eyes.

Sirius had never felt so puny.

"Hello Sirius," the dragon in front spoke quietly, in a voice that somehow managed to convey femininity despite its deep rumbling timbre. She leapt forward bounding lightly from rock to rock, until she landed gently in front of him. A necklace of leather stood out against her breast its single massive Garnet gleaming brightly.

The dragon was absolutely immense.

"You little human are not what I expected." She hissed.

Sirius jerked, and looked down at himself in surprise. He was indeed human again. _How bizarre _, but a dream was a dream and as long as he wasn't seeing James' accusing hazel eyes – he was too tired to care how odd his dream got.

"The time of the oath, are long behind us and my kind lay in slumber. Yet you bound your heart and spirit to the human hatchling. I expected to find a foolish hatchling and find a human Tercel*. Given the chance to return to your true form, or live with the consequences of your action which would you chose little human? Would you accept the oath my people once held? Even now when yours have forgotten it?" the dragon asked mildly her sinuous tail wrapping around him so he felt quite hemmed in. "My kind ruled the skies eons before yours fist drew breath little Tercel. When your kind first arrived mine saw the posibilites, so we decided to wait and see if you were like us, or if you were just another beast. My kind watched when the fist of your magical brethren died, because they could not control their magic, we decided to teach you and go our separate ways. Many many years later when neither of us could hide from man's advances we made the oath. We went into hiding together, we bound our spirits as familiar to yours, be you worthy, in exchange for turning away the dragon slayers. Hiding with you in plain sight. Fewer were born who were worthy, soon your kind forgot the oath, turning hunter yourself instead. Now the last of us sleeps, little Tercel. Would you bind yourself to your human hatchling, or find your way back to human form?"

Sirius blinked, _Well this truly was a bizarre dream, but hay he may as well answer. _He considered it. "I think I prefer being a dragon." He replied. "The Man failed to protect his godson, the dragon wont." He replied truthfully. "Were we still in our world I wouldn't mind being Evan's familiar hell I would happily have been the boy's pet if it meant keeping him safe."

No sooner had the words left his mouth then he was surrounded by a blinding white light. "Then remember your oath little tercel, I will be watching."

When he could see again he was a dragon.

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Sirius jerked awake and found himself still in his clearing, Evan's sleeping form on the ground at his side. He shook his head to clear the last vestages of his odd dream and briefly considered the fact that he was still exhausted from his attempt to find Evan earlier that day.

As for his odd dream, maybe he should ask them to cook his food for him.

He looked around the clearing with some tradipidation, he needed to make this spot defendable until he was strong enough to escape with Evan. He'd be damned before he let anyone take his godson away from him!

He only just got him back.

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"Dismissed," Admiral Roland said sharply to the nine Lieutenants she'd recruited for the 'Sirius mission'. "Lieutenant Carter, Report to training master Gillson, he'll put you to work. Ward, Rankin you will stay behind."

She watched as the two Lieutenants that had been the most heavily embroiled in this mess, stood all the straighter. Their backs so strait it had to be painful. One of them the cause of the situation, and the other had done everything in her power to prevent it. "I have spoken with Captain's Laurence of Temeraire and Carter of Venenatus, and they both confirm what happened this afternoon. Lieutenant Rankin, you are to report to captain Black and take up your assignment as his tutor. Good work Rankin, your efforts today ensured that this afternoon's incident was handled quickly and no one was injured. You should be proud of those actions."

"Yes sir, thank-you sir," Rankin replied hurrying out the door as soon as she was dismisses.

That handled, she turned her attention to Lieutenant Ward."Idiocy of this magnitude is inexcusable in a seasoned aviator. What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? Don't answer that. No answer save having recently fallen on you head from a great height, would be an expectable excuse. Your actions were directly responsible for mass panic in Dover!"

"In all my years of service I have never heard of anyone doing anything as idiotic as telling a dragonet that his Captain is going to be _murdered _in a _populated city. _All because you wanted a promotion that you had been warned was highly unlikely and refused to relinquish the chance at harnessing Sirius when you knew full well there were no consequences of failure. Your actions have cost us every chance of that Dragon accepting another handler. Your actions have condemned an untrained boy to captaining a Heavyweight dragon who will soon see combat. Those same actions could have bloody well cost us the use of a fire-spitting, Heavyweight combat dragon - all for your idiotic stubbornness and pride! I will not tolerate such idiocy in my convert. It is obvious that you are not yet mature enough for the duties and responsibility that comes with the rank of Lieutenant. As such you are hereby demoted to the rank of Ensign, and be bloody thankful I don't see you broken over this! You are to report to Captain Hollin, in the morning, he will deliver you back to Admiral Hill at Canterbury Convert. Dismissed Ensign," She commanded, lowering herself back down into her chair and rubbing her temples after the door closed behind the idiot she'd just had the misfortune of sharing space with.

She so didn't need this right now!

She groaned when someone knocked on her door, and seriously considered pretending she wasn't in. "Enter," she called after a second, only to have Lieutenant Rankin, enter looking more than a little alarmed.

"Sir, we have a situation." The girl said briskly.

_Oh what now?_

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Evan gazed at his Godfather in abject shock. "Sirius, you are being ridiculous." He said firmly. "Stop that before you injure yourself."

Sirius snorted at him, "Until I'm fit to fly, and can get us both safely out of here, you are to stay within the safety of this moat!" the dragon hissed sharply.

"Sirius you can't just build a moat in the middle of a clearing." Evan retorted. "Beside it's thin enough that I can clear it if I took a running jump."

Sirius proceeded to spit a stream of fire into the trench he'd just finished digging with his tail-blade, the viscous flaming liquid spreading rapidly across the surface of the water the dragon had so carefully filled the 'moat' with. So that it resembled an oil fire burning steadily on top of the ocean. "Try to Jump it now." The dragon hissed in reply.

Evan rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the mature one." He retorted, "Merlin how did I get stuck babysitting a five ton lizard?"

"I am a dragon, a big scary dragon," Sirius hissed indignantly.

"You know if you have to tell people you're scary, you are probably not that scary."

Sirius pouted, "Shut up." He replied after a second. "I am scary I'm the biggest breed of dragon ever to fly the skies!"

"And Yet Temeraire makes you look small," Evan replied mildly.

"Shut up," was Sirius's only reply.

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Admiral Roland stared at the flaming moat in front of her in shock. She hadn't expected this. But then it made sense, they were going to have to earn Sirius' trust after the stunt Ensign Ward had pulled. She raised her chin and walked forward noting as she did that Sirius had used his tail to reduce a tree to small brick sized chunks.

"Sirius," she called. "There is no need for this. I must apologize for Ensign Ward, he over stepped himself. Only you can say who is to be your captain and you have made your choice clear. It shall not be challenged again."

The dragonet's only response was to pick up a single chunk of wood and toss it into the blue burning flames.

Temeraire who'd been looking over the wall of shrubbery that divided their two clearings snorted at this. "Come now," the dragon said kindly. "There is no need for this. Exidium is an Honorable dragon and Jane is his captain, she would not try to steal away your captain, Exidium would not let her. They did the same to me when I was a hatchling. It was dreadful. Once I made it clear I would have no one but my Laurence, they left us be."

Sirius seemed wholly unimpressed by this argument.

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Evan blinked it was difficult to see through the fog and he had no idea where he was. "Sirius?" he called, "Sirius where are you?" he'd gone to sleep in his own bed for the first time since they'd wound up in this world. It had taken three days for them to convince Sirius to let him leave his sight for longer then it took to relieve himself – the first and only time Sirius had tried to follow him behind the tree at the far corner of his clearing he'd smacked the dragon's nose like an errant dog and firmly sent him away.

As far as he knew he'd gone to sleep in his newly assigned room, and yet here he was alone in what was beginning to look like the forbidden forest as the wind shifted and the fog swirled at his feet. Light flared briefly to his left, and he turned to see a small ball of light flashing into existence a short distance away. Startled he took a step forward, the ball of soft blue light flickered out of existence as soon as he reached it. Another small blue orb of light flared into existence a few feet ahead of him. For a moment he stood there, in shock before stepping forward again despite his better judgment. The orb disappeared again only to reappear a few paces forward.

Intrigued he followed.

At length the little glowing orbs led him away from anything he was failure with and up to a rather large cottage in the woods. As he drew closer however he amended his opinion of the structure. It was indeed a cottage, but it was small and seemed to have an attached structure, that reminded him of nothing more than a garage with a pair of large, heavy mahogany doors, its handle impossibly large. It was this structure that gave the cottage the appearance of being large – being at least twice the size of the cottage itself, if not a little bigger.

As he approached the huge doors opened and out stepped a woman.

She was neither young nor old in appearance but instead gave off that air of timelessness that seemed to surround the more powerful witches and wizards. He wondered idly if she like Dumbledore was far older then she appeared. Not a difficult task when one considered the fact that she looked like she'd scarcely seen the end of her Hogwarts' days. She was tall and thin, with raven hair and piercing blue eyes. Clad in a blue velvet dress that reminded him strongly of a Celtic movie he'd once caught a glimpse of while serving his whale of a cousin a soda pop and chips. The only jewelry she wore was a plain necklace and two silver wrist cuffs. The necklace was simple, little more than a single large Fluorite stone about the size of his closed fist, set into a slim silver band dangling from what looked like a cord made out of black horsehair. The cuffs were crafted of rune etched silver, a single Fluorite stone set into the center of each flashed in the light as she moved.

She looked at him for a moment and he got the feeling that he was being measured against some standard known only to her. At last she dipped her head to him. "Welcome, young one." She said crisply. "Do come in." she added over her shoulder as she turned and headed back into what Evan had silently dubbed her "garage". He simply stood there for a second weighing his options, before shrugging to himself and following her inside.

The first thing he noticed was the enormous dragon curled upon the rug in front of the hearth like an immense cat.

The dragon lifted his head and the woman walked up to him, reaching out her hand to stroke his nose, like having a dragon sleeping in front of your fire was the most natural thing in the world. "Agrawain, this is the boy upon whom our ways rest."

Evan gazed up at the dragon and tried not to curse at that introduction. _Why could he never be normal?_

The dragon turned his head and looked at him out of familiar eerie eyes.

Sirius' eyes.

"He is but a hatchling Morgan." The dragon – Agrawain apparently – said sagely.

Only then did Even realize that the dragon also wore an immense Fluorite stone upon it's breast, set into what looked very much like a wide leather collar or necklace. The tooled leather had very clearly been carefully worked with runes.

There was an odd noise that he couldn't place, until he noticed that the very tip of the dragon's long tail was twitching, in what he supposed was agitation, the tip of his long wickedly curved tail blade tapping lightly against the floor.

"Yet he is mine to train." Morgan replied, and then turned her attention to Evan, "tell me child what do you know of magic and a familiar spirit's promise?"

Evan just gaped at her. _What the bloody hell was in tonight's stew? _He thought, before briefly wondering if answering this strange female figment of his dreams constituted talking to himself. And what did he know of familiars anyway? Not much. Dumbledore had told him that Hedwig was his familiar and that was why she could always find him. Although that made no sense as any delivery owl could do the same. He knew that the man had a phoenix familiar. He shrugged and turned his attention to the woman. "I don't know much about familiars but the headmaster told me my owl Hedwig is my familiar because she can always find me."

The woman snorted ungracefully, and _Agrawain_ remarked, "What exactly is your species teaching their hatchlings?" before turning his attention to Evan, "that is frankly ridiculous, you may care for your owl and it may care for you but it lacks the ability to truly be your familiar. It may be your friend but that is all. Animals have great intelligence and pure spirits little hatchling, but they lack the magical core that forms the familiar bond when bound irrevocably to your magical core."

Evan blinked, and wondered belatedly if the dragon was speaking parsletongue and if the woman, Morgan, was a parslemouth like he was.

"No child," she responded once he'd voiced his question. "Agrawain's words are not truly spoken in the language you hear. It is an old spell, although if you prefer we can speak the snake language."

Evan considered that and then turned his attention to the dragon he'd dreamed up. He looked highly similar to Sirius with a few key differences, first he was a brilliant silvery blue, and his gray marbled chest was not as muted in color either. Most striking however was the markings on the edges of his wings, they flashed and shimmered in the light like polished gemstones. He wondered if this was a good approximation of what Sirius would look like when he was healthy.

Morgan smiled, "He is handsome is he not? Fully grown and now eternally in his prime, as I am. You must forget what you learned as a wizard child." She raised her hand to stop his protests. "You are the first mage with a Fireopal familiar for millennia child. However now that the oath has been restored others will follow your path. You must learn to control your magic before it consumes you."

Evan gaped at the figment of his imagination, and decided that he had most defiantly lost his mind if a woman he had dreamed into existence was spouting things that even he knew to be insane. "I cannot do magic," he informed he mildly. "Fudge snapped my wand."

"Learn to harness your own magic fist, not what lies without." The woman snapped and making an abrupt hand gesture struck him on the right shoulder with a powerful stinging hex that left his skin an irritated and inflamed red. "A wand is not but a tool! One your ancestors did without, before they learned dependency upon a tool of their own making. You no longer have the luxury of such a crutch." Her irritated voice followed him as the world went gray again. "It is time to let the _'wizard'_ die, and the mage rise."

He awoke abruptly in his bed and collapsed back against the pillows, his right shoulder aching for some odd reason. He closed his eyes and silently vowing never to eat rabbit stew again. Obviously it did unpleasant things to his dreams. Curious about his why his shoulder ached he pulled down the collar of his nightshirt and investigated the abused flesh. His shoulder bore the very beginnings of a bourse and Evan assumed he must have knocked it against something in his sleep.

Groaning at the absurdity of it all, he climbed out of bed gathered fresh clothing and headed for the baths. Today his studying with Lt. Rankin began and he got the impression that she was going to be as bad as Hermione.

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Evan sighed, he'd loved books and learning when he was younger and had found a haven from Dudley in the school's library. Years of beatings for daring to use his freakishness to get better grades then his cousin, had left him with little desire to perform at the top of his class. In primary school he'd kept his grades below Dudley's at all cost. At Hogwarts he'd kept himself to Ron's level. Except in Defense against the Dark Arts, he was the 'boy-who-lived' and thus expected to excel at that class. Additionally he'd been defenseless against the 'love and care' of his relatives for 10 long years, he wasn't about to allow himself to stay that way.  
That however did not mean he didn't learn, he just didn't allow anyone else to know how much he was learning.  
Here, however, he didn't have someone to conveniently show him the standard he was supposed to set for himself. Here he quite literally had Sirius sitting behind him while Rankin lectured him on dragon breeds.  
He had to admit most of what she'd taught him was interesting.  
He was stunned by the realization that most of the dragons from his world fell into the realm of courier weight. While only some of them fell under that standard in terms of length.

The Ukrainian Ironbelly for example was 60ft long but only reached a weight of up to six tones.

"According to that book your grandfather lent me, we had a few larger species but they were hunted to extinction by wizards. I don't know how big I'll be when I finish growing but as I'm already pushing 65ft, and don't seem in a hurry to slow down-" Sirius hissed softly.

Evan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, and turned his attention back to Lieutenant Rankin. "What if a dragon falls into a particular wieghtclass by breed but doesn't reach that weight?" he enquired.

"That depends upon the dragon." A new voice decidedly male voice responded and Evan looked up to see a tall, lanky, dark haired man with pale, sun burnt skin standing a few yards off in the entrance to the clearing. "if the dragon in question still reaches a good length he may still be termed a heavyweight but if he is short as well as light then he is classified in the weight class below what his breed belongs traditionally belongs to. The reverse may also prove true, a middleweight dragon breed may occasionally give rise to a heavyweight."

Evan blinked, "thank you." He said sincerely and then added, "begging your pardon, sir, but who exactly are you?"

The man laughed. "Captain Granby," he replied mildly. "We have met before, though I doubt you were truly in a condition to remember it as you had only just escaped the French."

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Laurence listened quietly to Jane's order – though it was framed as a request from his perch on top of Temeraire's bent foreleg. Silently marveling at the differences a few years made. Before Temeraire had come into his life he never would have dreamed of staying seated when an admiral was giving him direction.

Though he also would never have entertained the notion of a female Admiral

nor one who was also his lover

Her request that, they teach their unique formation maneuvers to Captain Black and Sirius was understandable given what she'd told them of the young dragon's aerial capabilities.

"When will young Sirius' harness be finished?" he enquired.

Jane smiled, "the harness-masters tell me they will have one ready for him within the week." She replied and then added, "For now Temeraire can work with Sirius on the execution of the maneuvers and you can work with Black on the theories behind them."

"I would be delighted to." Temeraire replied, "and besides Sirius seems a great deal more pleasant then Iskierka."

Laurence suppressed a grin at that statement the little Kazilik was a handful, but then from what he'd seen of Sirius so was the young wild dragon. "Sirius is a bit of a handful," He reminded Temeraire gently.

Temeraire snorted, "He acted as I would have under the circumstances. Had someone told me that a person I had just met had taken you into the city to murder you, I would have flown to Dover to rescue you, and no one would have persuaded me to do otherwise. That he was so willing to fly to the boy's aid, when he was so ill from lack of food that even so short a fight exhausted him – only shows his dedication to his captain and his strength of character. Of course I will teach him."

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Albus Dumbledore looked up as the door to his office was flung open. Remus Lupin was framed in the doorway his amber eyes glowing Yellow with rage. He swallowed, despite the fact that he was the most powerful wizard in existence, he was still more than a little alarmed by the prospect of being confined in his office with an enraged Werewolf.

"Ah Remus what do I owe the pleasure?" he enquired in his best Grandfather voice.

The low growl he got in response was particularly hair-raising. "You were supposed to protect Harry!" Remus quite literally snarled, and Albus was horrified to note the fact that his teeth had elongated into short fangs. Many wizards believed, incorrectly that werewolves were only capable of shifting their shape upon the full moon. This however was untrue, Werewolves could shift their shape during any time of stress, those who actually embraced their wolf rather than rejecting it could control whether or not they shifted in those times of stress. Remus had never embraced his wolf that Albus knew of. His parent's had feared the werewolf and Remus had inadvertently made his own transformations harder by rejecting that part of himself. His time at Hogwarts had cemented his belief in the inherent feral nature of his wolf.

This was truth – after a sense under the influence of the full moon werewolves where mad feral creatures. Without it however, they retained much of their senses.

Albus offered him a small smile it seemed he needed to do some damage control, before the normally placid man before him did the unthinkable and embraced his wolf so that he might avenge the boy he saw as a beloved nephew to be protected, and the wolf saw as it's pack's only pup – to be jealously shielded from all that would even consider harming it.

"Calm yourself Remus, I have protected young mister Potter. Cornelius was set on his course and could not be persuaded to another course and if I am to be of any help to Harry and the light I could not risk my status as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot or the problems losing that position will create within the International Confederation of Wizards." Remus' deepening growl and flashing eyes prodded him forward. "Harry is safe, the Vail is a porthole into different worlds, and only kills when it is not set. I tricked Cornelius into letting me set a destination. Harry is safely out of harm's way and will remain so until Voldemort had shown himself to the world and it is again safe for us to bring Harry home. Once he returns I will see to his training."

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Sirius rose easily to his feet Evan perched atop his back, and sprang into the air and headed over towards the training grounds where he and Evan where to meet with captain Laurence and Temeraire for flight training. From what he understood Laurence would teach Evan Theory while Temeraire taught him the patterns of the maneuvers.

Evan however was reluctant to remain on the ground and had as such insisted that they fly there to meet them instead of walk. Evan was quite confident that if he could stand on his Nimbus 2000 during a match and easily balance upon his Firebolt, that he could balance and even walk upon Sirius' back in flight with little trouble.

Seeing how Evan had done as much before their headlong flight from the French had required him to sacrifice his robes for a makeshift harness, and indeed had a seekers reflexes Sirius was inclined to believe his godson. As it was Evan did have remarkable balance.

And it was a short flight regardless.

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Laurence watched Sirius come in to land with mild surprise and wondered idly if Captain Black had sent his beast on ahead, as the dragon did not appear to be holding anything in his talons. So it was with more than a little horror that he realized the damned lunatic child was walking across the beast's back as calmly as if he were on the ground.

With no harness to secure him and no hope of surviving a fall from such a height

His frantically beating heart had lodged firmly in his throat and meant to stay there until boy and dragon where again on the ground.

The dragon landed lightly and the damned suicidal child slid easily down the beast's shoulder as if it was no great height.

Laurence opened his mouth with every intention of remaining calm and cautioning the child against such actions. What came out of his mouth however was not in the least calm. "What the devil where you thinking?" he roared. "Where you trying to kill yourself through stupidity? Have you taken leave of your senses? An Aviator, a captain in particular cannot go putting himself in danger for the sport of it." He would have said more but Sirius interrupted, his tone one of indignation despite it being half hissed in his strange tongue, and Laurence threw his hands up in exasperation cursing them both for immature fools and stalked over to Temeraire to calm down enough to offer an apology to the young captain and hopefully express his alarm without sounding very much like his own irate father.

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Sir Edward Howe climbed easily out of his carriage and made the remaining trek up to the Dover Convert on foot, since the carriage's horses could not be persuaded to come any closer. He had to admit to being intrigued by the letter he'd received from an Admiral Roland. A new Dragon had come into harness and while he had been born wild, the Admiralty suspected he would make Heavyweight class and were interested in knowing either his breed – if indeed he was from domesticated stock - or his best estimate of what breeds had likely gone into producing… well him.

It was sure to be interesting at any rate and he was looking forward to it. The last time he'd been called on by any member of the Arial corps to identify a dragon's breed he'd had the extreme pleasure of getting to meet a Chinese Celestial, one of the rarest dragons in existence.

AN. Weird dreams brought on by magical exhaustion and or food poisoning or something more? So what do you think?


	9. Chapter 9

Draco glanced up from his contemplation of his potions homework when he heard the unmistakable crack of apperation. The wards would have kept out all but Malfoy blood, which meant it had to be his father returning from the dark lord's side. His mother was currently with him in the family library. Immediately they rose and went to greet their lord, anything else was considered an affront to Lucius's dignity and station. They found his father leaning heavily upon the wall his body shaking violently with reaction. Draco knew those symptoms, had seen the aftermath of his father using that spell upon his mother and having upon rare occasion merited the use of the cruciartus curse upon his own person.  
Idly he wondered what had their esteemed lord in such a mood. As this was the fifth time this summer that his lord father had returned in such a condition. Although today the man's Death Eater garb was covered in a fine crusting of dried blood.  
Draco had grown up accustomed to several truths, most of which he was certain would not survive the passing of the summer months. He had already learned by looking at his father that his family name did not make him untouchable. He had to admit he was confused his father had always told him that Malfoy blood made them above everyone else, yet his father willingly served the dark lord. His mother had always said 'Blacks bow to no one yet she deferred to his father as was old pureblood custom, and he bowed to the dark lord.  
and came home bloody and shaking with the aftereffects of torture  
To make matters worse, his father had told him that he'd reaffirmed his promise to the dark lord. Draco knew it was too much to hope for, but he still wished his father had left him out of it.  
Wished his father had never sworn his service to the dark lord.

He had no choice his father planned to present him to the dark lord for initiation on his 16th birthday.

"Father?" he enquired silkily, "what does the initiation entail? I wish to prepare myself for it."

His father glanced over at him, as he drank the dark blue potion his mother had handed him. " it is nothing difficult Draco, even you can perform so menial a task. You need simply torture a few mudbloods and rid the world of their filth."

Draco hid a wince, his father spoke of torture and killing like one would speak of taking out the trash. "What if I cannot perform the initiation task?" he enquired. He'd admit he didn't particularly like muggles – or at least what he'd heard of them – but …

He didn't want to kill anyone.

Actually he enjoyed healing

Like the time he'd found the owlet with the broken wing

His father had wanted to kill it, but he'd secreted the animal away in a box under his bed and with the help of their house elf, had nursed the little thing back to health.

He'd been ten at the time, but he'd loved the feeling that had come with it.

When his mother had discovered his secret he'd begged her not to tell his father.

Ambrosius * had grown large and strong, and when his father had seen him his mother had intervened claiming to have bought him the majestic eagle-owl as a early birthday gift.

He'd had the owl since.

His father's firm tone left no doubt of his sincerity. "If you cannot perform the initiation task, then I will torture and kill the filthy mudbloods for you and then I will torture and kill you for disgracing me so."

Draco swallowed, and inclined his head. "I understand father, and I will not fail you." He replied hotly.

He wished he could say that his father would never do it, but he knew he would. To make matters worse he could no longer even hide behind his status as the only heir to the Malfoy family, not when his mother was currently pregnant.

There had to be a way out of this

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Sirius watched Daegberht wearily. Other then the first dream he'd never appeared before the other dragons in this strange dreamscape as a man. He'd always appeared as an immature male dragon, and positively dwarfed by those around him.

he'd confessed as much to Evan.

The boy had made a quip about him finally physically being his mental age.

He'd retaliated by knocking the boy onto his rump with an affectionate nudge of his nose.

He was maybe half Daegberht's size if he was being generous.

The larger dragon launched himself gracefully into the air and perched himself upon a stone spire way above Sirius' head. "alright little tercel, I have judged your conformation and judged you to be without any deformities, limiting or otherwise. Now it is time to see to your training. Fly four circuits at speed if you please."

Sirius launched himself into the air and set about circling the quidditch pitch. He had finished the first pass and started on the second when he let his mind wander. The male watching him was very large, 115 ft from nose to tail tip, although he'd been informed he was the largest male of their race, and that it was rare for a male to exceed 100 feet in length. Females tended to reach 110 feet in length although apparently they upon occasion had been known to reach a length of 125. Sirius had asked about how heavy he would be only to have the other dragons flex their wings at him in an odd version of a shrug.

Somehow he didn't think they were very heavy, they had a deep chest, but were also very streamline, and nowhere near as physically bulky as many of the other dragon species he'd seen. They seemed atypical of western dragons in that regard.

Abruptly a dragon dove at him from above and cupping his wings he rolled away instinctively before doubling back on himself to face his attacker.

The other dragon was a large fully grown female, and more than twice his size. The early morning sunlight flashed off of the large sapphire stone that had been set in the tooled leather of her breast band. He mantled at her, the horns of his mane standing on edge and rattling in his disquiet. A signal that he was willing to fight if he had to, he'd learned.

"Easy young one," she said mildly. "You have shown yourself to advantage, your instinctive reaction was a strong one, now it is time to teach you to turn a weakness into a weapon." That said she flew down and landed beside Daegberht on the rocky spire.

Sirius fluttered about uncertainly for a moment before; the female instructed him to land on a rocky ledge nearby. He landed gratefully having felt uncomfortable with their combined scrutiny. Abruptly he realized something she was wearing one of those odd breastcollar like the ones he'd seen on horses, only wider, it was intercity tooled leather that looked like it was both a decoration and possibly part of a harness. He'd seen one on the first dragon he'd spoken to though she had worn a garnet. He wondered at their meaning, and why Daegberht wasn't wearing one.

Without stopping to think he asked his question. Daegberht, who'd been in the middle of telling him ho to turn his instinctive reaction into a weapon, snorted almost derisively. "I lived long before she first cracked the shell, little Tercel. Long before we ever made our oath with man, back when we hunted land animals that were almost our length and large enough to feed the entire clan.

Sirius couldn't help wondering what animal could possibly be almost as long as the biggest dragon that had ever flown the skies of his world. "Guennéan wears the collar as a symbol of her bond with man, the sapphire resonated the best with her magic and her mage's after they were bound. Now will you please pay attention?" he demanded.

Sirius bobbed his head.

"What do you remember of what Daegberht explained?"Guennéan enquired.

Sirius twitched slightly in embarrassment and was forced to admit that he hadn't been listening.

Guennéan sighed, "we are the most dangerous thing to fly the sky but sometimes the little ones will try to mob us like sparrows mobbing a hawk, or other clans will try to take our territory. Because of this we teach our hatchlings the art of using that weapon on your tail but we will also teach you how to turn your instinctive reaction to being startled from above into an advantage. In a mating flight, a female will chose not the male who is fast enough to catch her, but the one whose skill in flight impresses her, the most and only if he is cunning enough to catch her. We mate on the wing, spiraling out of the sky. We will demonstrate the move for you. When we gain altitude Daegberht will come at me from above."

Sirius watched as the two elder dragons demonstrated the move, more then a little awed by the way Guennéan turned the instinctive reaction to being startled from above into a powerful defensive move by using Daegberht's weight and momentum against him. He watched the two dragons plummet towards the rocky ground, Guennéan twisting so that Daegberht was beneath her his back to the ground, abruptly she released him. Sirius was sure he was about to see the other male crash into the ground, but at the last possible second the male twisted around and opened his wings, there was an audible snap as he caught the air and was flung back into the air his tail crashing into the ground as he winged back into the air sending up a spray of sharp rocky shrapnel.

Sirius felt his wings twitch with nervous energy,

He wanted to learn that.

Both the attack Guennean had preformed to counter the initial attack from above and the move Daegberht had used to escape what would certainly have been serious injury.

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Sir Edward Howe, gazed at the dragon napping in the afternoon sun. Admiral Roland had informed him of the dragonet's odd tendency to be awake at dawn, dusk, and after dark, yet sleep through the Afternoon Hours. The French Fleurs-de-Nuit, was nocturnal and thus slept primeraly during the day, what made this new dragon stand out however was that when he was awake during the afternoons he had no need to shield his eyes. It was like he was bred to be either nocturnal or diurnal.

He'd never heard of anything like it in a dragon species.

A boy sat not to far from the slumbering dragon going over English dragon breeds and their abilities and the generalized differences in their handling with a young woman. Idly he wondered why the boy wasn't in a classroom. However he assumed that the woman teaching him was likely the boy's captain as he knew captains in the core where responsible for the education of their younger crewmen, the runners and ensigns.

Judging by his age the boy was likely an ensign, he turned his attention to the Young woman, wondering idly if this Dragon like longwings had chosen a female handler. "Captain Black?" he enquired.

The young woman turned to look at him; her blond hair was pulled back into a tight tail. She regarded him for a moment with piercing blue eyes. "You are mistaken sir," she replied. "I am Lieutenant Rankin."

The scrawny boy she'd been teaching closed his book, keeping his page with a finger and rose to his feet to extend his free hand. "I am E – Captain Black." He said softly. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance sir."

He blinked in surprise, but quickly mastered his shock. The boy looked to be about 13, and quite skinny. He extended his hand to the boy, "Sir Edward Howe," He replied.

The boy's grip was firm, when he shook his hand. "What can I do for you sir?" he enquired mildly.

"Admiral Roland, here has asked me to come and try to see what I can make of Sirius's breed, and to see if I agree with the assessment of her and the dragon surgeons of the dragon's possible weight class." Sir Howe informed the boy. He honestly wasn't quite sure how to treat the child. For that was what he was – a child – despite the rank his dragon gave him.

Captain Black glanced over at his slumbering dragon, affection clear on his face. "Sirius is sleeping right now; do I need to wake him for this?"

He sighed, "I need to get a better understanding of his general conformation," he replied candidly. "In order to do that he needs to be awake."

Captain Black sighed and inclined his head before walking over to the slumbering ball of dragon. He slipped under one wing and Sir Edward heard him ask, "Sirius please wake up," in a soft voice.

The dragon jerked awake, his crown of horns standing on end and rattling together his slitted eyes glowing brightly from the shade of his mantled wings. The dragon rose fluidly to his feet his tail coiling around his captain possessively. He hissed something sharply, forked tongue flicking out of his mouth to taste the air, in a manner reminiscent of a snake. A soft hissed reply from the vicinity of his tail, startled him, but it seemed to calm the dragon.

It's wings lowered and folded gracefully along his back, the mane of horns clacked softly as he lowered them to lay flat against his neck.

Captain Black climbed out of the grip of his tail with the ease of youth, and went to stand closer to him. Howe looked up at the dragon for a moment before addressing Captain Black "I understand he understands English even if he cannot speak." He said simply.  
"I speak." Sirius replied shortly.  
"My apologies," Howe replied immediately. "Would you be kind enough to move over and stand by that large pile of rocks, please, and do spread your wings so that we may take a better measure of you."

Sirius hissed something at his captain, the boy replied in an eerily sibilant hiss, and the dragon bobbed snorted before turning to do as he had asked. Sir Edward watched him go, noting that like Temeraire the dragon carried his tail off the ground, his tailfins flicking open giving more lift to the end of his tail with it's the heavy scythe like blade. The dragon stopped his tail lashed the air briefly before he spread his wings.

He'd never seen anything like him, the bladed tail was unique. Although certain breeds did have tails that could be used as weapons, the Checkered Nettle with its spiked tail, and the French Defendeur-Brave's hooked tail for example. The dragon had a deep chest, and was well muscled even if it was clear he had not been well fed before he'd arrived in the convert. To Sir Edward's skilled and practiced eye, the dragon was lithely built, and appeared to be overlong for his weight, the wings were long and tapered flaring into a scallop shaped edge that was divided by six spines to provide lift. Sir Edward marveled at the adaptation, speed and maneuverability he would guess. The dragon's front talons were shaped like enormous five fingered hands – with what looked like an opposable thumb. His back talons were more like a cross between a human foot and a bird of prays, having four forward facing toes and one rear grasping talon.

"He is not any known breed," he informed the Admiral mildly. "Defiantly a crossing of some sort, Possibly a crossing between an Anglewing and a French Defendeur-Brave."

"I am a Fireopal." The dragon said over his shoulder.

"I beg your pardon." Sir Edward said aghast.

The dragon snorted at him. "My breed." He said simply.

He and the Admiral gaped at the large dragon, for a moment while Captain Black hissed sharply.

Sir Edward flushed, "may I attempt to guess your weight class?" he enquired, intrigued.

Sirius inclined his head. "I would guess that he will make heavyweight class," he said tentatively, looking up at the dragon for confirmation.

Sirius lifted his wings slightly, and said something in garbled English before hissing in displeasure and looking imploringly at his Captain. They hissed back and forth for a moment before the boy sighed and turned his attention back to them and said calmly. "Males range from 95 ft to 115 ft, females are larger, he doesn't know their weight… and he says to tell you he will not be grown until he's been out of the shell for 3years."

AN.

Ambrosius latin for immortal according to google.

In the process of moving and school is starting this chapter is unedited but I wanted to get it out to you guys asap read and review please


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Temeraire watched Sirius fly. The younger dragon was a little longer then Lily though he weighed scarcely anything. He was quite certain that the younger, ridiculously long dragon only just classified as light combat weight, he was that easy to lift. Still he was filling out nicely, he supposed, and he lacked the coiled rope appearance of the Kazilik dragons he'd seen in Turkey. Even little Iskierka was more long and sinuous in build. Sirius just looked over long – more like a Chinese breed then a European breed. Satisfied that he had a good feel for exactly what the little dragon was capable of he took to the wing himself and climbed above Sirius.

His bell men began to drop the bags that served for practice incendiaries as the Younger dragon practiced his maneuvers. Sirius banked to the left avoiding the first, but was struck by the second. He jerked in surprised and turned his head to examine the grayish white streak that now marked his hide. The next volley was met with his flashing tail.

But the dragon over reached and went tumbling through the sky. It took a moment but the little dragon managed to right himself, panting from exertion, his wings quivering.

Temeraire ordered him to the ground and landed beside him, he needed to figure out a way for Sirius to employ his tail as the weapon it obviously was without over balancing in the air. He'd spoken with a few of the little currier dragons who had helped to rescue the dragonet and his captain - according to them, Sirius had used his tail in combat during that desperate flight. However it seemed the little dragon had been acting on instinct and as of yet could not seem to reproduce the feat without overbalancing and sending himself tumbling.

Idly Temeraire wondered if the dragon could use his tail as a weapon in flight, or if he had to be on the ground for that. It seemed like a stupid adaptation if that where the case. In any case it made sense for him to teach Sirius his own modified formation maneuvers, as he was the fastest and most maneuverable heavyweight they had, although if he was truthful Sirius looked to be his match.

He wondered if the little dragon was sure he was a European breed.

Fire Opal seemed more like an Oriental name then a European one and if one discounted the crown of horns, the horns running down his spine, and the blade on his tail, they had a similar profile. But then the same could be said of several other Chinese breeds. Temeraire lashed his tail in frustration; actually he thought Sirius looked like a strange crossing of a Yu-Lung and a Sháo-Lung. He had the Yu-Lung's characteristic broad curving forehead and a long arrow-shaped muzzle as well as the enormously deep chest, though he lacked the long wings. As for the Shao-Lung, he had a frill of horns that reminded him of the breed's many-horned head, and the single line of horns running down his spine put him in mind of the Yellow Crest that ran the length of the Shao-Lung's spine.

It would have been nice to be around another Oriental Dragon – even if it wasn't another Celestial.

He turned his attention to the bladed and finned tail which didn't fit with any breed he'd ever seen, Oriental or otherwise. Temeraire wished that even one of the two Checkered Nettles from Exidium's formation where well enough to help train the Dragonet.

At least on the finer points of using his tail while in the air.

It only made sense after all. He didn't have a spiked tail.

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Luna smiled at her father and did her best to reassure him that she was not going to die if he let her out of his sight. She loved her father she really did but ever since her mother's death the man had been more than a little over protective. She gently reminded him that they'd gone through all the trouble of getting her an underage magic permit for this expedition. She'd completed the mandatory 6 hour muggle secrecy class, and 4 hour responsible magical usage class, and she knew better then to use magic frivolously. She also gently reminded him of unicorns who were far more likely to be seen by a young maiden girl, then a group of mixed wizards and witches of whom she was the only witch not married and what if the Crumple Horned Snorkax preferred maidens and only lived in the aria she wished to explore?

It took her the better part of two hours, but at last she managed to convince him to allow it.

Smiling to herself she turned and headed up the mountain. Idly she wondered if she would really find the place she'd seen in her vision and what would she find when she did.

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Remus Lupine lay curled up on the foot of his bed, rendered harmless by the potion Headmaster Dumbledore had provided and gazed longingly at the framed picture on his bedside table. It was a picture of the Marauders as they had once been, Padfoot with a stupid grin on his face, James with one arm slung around Lily's shoulders, baby Harry held securely in her arms. Peter was not in the picture.

He wondered if Sirius and Harry where in fact Okay, Albus had explained that he would retrieve Harry as soon as it was safe to do so. Remus could understand the situation Albus had found himself in. Fudge had been intent on executing Harry; Albus had done the only thing he could given the short notice to ensure Harry survived.

He would have explained the situation to Harry if he'd had the time to do so. He'd planned on explaining what he'd done to Sirius and Him as soon as the execution had come to a conclusion and they were all in private – he hadn't expected Sirius to fling himself after Harry.

At least now Harry had a companion in the new world he'd been sent to.

A companion who would do anything to keep him safe

As odd as it sounded, he hoped Voldemort made himself publically known sooner rather than later as it would give them leave to retrieve Harry as soon as possible.

He closed his eyes briefly and flung his head back to howl mournfully up at the pregnant moon. He had not done so since he'd started to take the Wolfsbane potion years ago. He and Sirius had bayed at the moon while in school, and the action reminded him and Moony of his lost pack.

James - Prongs was dead

Peter was a traitor, who had cost the life of two of his closest friends, and endangered the life of the pack's one cub… Moony would kill the rat as soon as look at him. Their Alpha was dead because of that Rat.

Sirius , Padfoot, was on the run, separated from the protection of his pack by the Rat's doing.

Harry, the pack's only cub , had been left alone and unguarded. Padfoot was with him now… still moony worried for them both.

Remus shook his head trying to dislodge the wolf's thoughts though they mirrored his own.

He was endanger of becoming feral, the wolf Moony was too close to the surface, he'd lost everything and their combined loss left Remus raw and seconds away from the change regardless of the phase of the moon.

His eyes were Moony's yellow at all times, and his teeth were long, clearly fangs.

Albus had taken to keeping him dosed with Wolfsbane, to help stave off the change, and to render him harmless should he shift his shape. It was hard to keep control over the wolf within when the man agreed with him.

He and Moony where in agreement about one thing, if anything happened to his pack's one cub…. Dumbledore and Fudge were going to feel his displeasure.

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Sirius flew at his fastest speed. Matching his teacher in terms of speed and easily outperforming him in terms of maneuverability, although there was one thing that he simply could not figure out how to do.

Try as he might he simply could not figure out how the other dragon was able to hover.

His Top speed was the same as Temeraire's a staggering 40 miles per hour, though the older dragon had more endurance. He'd been told his would improve with time, age, health and training.

Still it rankled.

He took comfort in the fact that he could still out maneuver the other bigger dragon. Daegberht had him constantly practicing the maneuvers that were the cornerstone of the hunting, and fighting techniques he would have used within the fighting and hunting Wings had he lived during the time of their clans. Sirius couldn't help looking at the situation with good natured hilarity, Daegberht had told him once that had he lived in the time of the dragon human oath, he would have been a rider, and yet here he was destined to be the first male to fly the skies since the time of the Founders.

In many ways it was odd, when they'd first been exiled to this new world and he'd transformed himself into a dragon in a desperate attempt to save his godson's life, he had never considered what that change in shape would mean for him. Never in his wildest dreams had he considered the idea that that decision would make him a school boy twice over.

First in his waking world and again in his dreams

Daegberht and Guennéan, were busily pounding centuries of draconic history into his head, along with fighting and hunting techniques and to Sirius's immense embarrassment… drilling him on the techniques required for a mating flight.

Why couldn't they mate on the ground like any sensible creature… and why oh why did a male have to display in the air?

Still they'd told him that one day He and Evan would have to chose, would they stay here in this new world surrounded by Aviators and dragons, or would they return home to their own world and help to raise their own aerie. Would they raise the long dead pact, and help to resurrect the Fire Opal to the place it had enjoyed before Wizards had thought to use their parts in potions in order to make them more powerful than those made from ordinary dragon parts.

He'd asked how the hell the two expected him and Evan to raise an extinct species and had discovered that although the last of the breed had died out in the time of the Founders, the founders themselves had been members of a secret society that had long been forgotten, even to the decedents of its members. The Basilisk Slytherin had placed upon the Hogwarts grounds was guarding something.

A treasure long ago forgotten.

Ravenclaw had managed through a secret network to acquire and or smuggle a good number of Fireopal eggs and a few young hatchlings out of the control of the various ministries. They'd hidden these eggs in various locations, and cast strong stasis spells upon them so that they would only awake when the requirements of the spell had been met.

Sirius twitched his tail in thought as he followed Temeraire through the pattern they were flying at speed, the older dragon was tiring understandable given the amount of work that had been place upon his shoulders because of the Dragon plague Brittan was suffering in this world.

What should he do?

He would follow Evan he had already decided.

After all there was nothing waiting for him in their world save prison and the kiss of the most evil creature that had ever existed. Only Moony drew him to that world and either way he would remain a dragon until his dying day.

so what did it matter to him what skies he flew?

Perhaps they could even retrieve the eggs and few surviving sleeping hatchlings of his species and bring them here? If they could, would the aviators here honor the fact that Fireopals did not take a companion until they had reached 6months of age? The age where according to Daegberht and Guennéan, their magical cores had developed enough to be able to tell if a human's magic was compatible with their own, and thus matured enough to permanently bind the two life forces together for all eternity.

If not what would happen to their race?

He didn't know how to advise his godson on this matter, his own interests clouded his ability to be objective.

He looked over at Temeraire, and wondered how it would be if he was truly a part of this world… a world where Dragon inevitably out lived the handler. Guennéan explained him that He and Evan would grow old together, since wizards lived to an extremely old age and the bond between them would act on their own innate magic to tie them together. Thus extending Evan's natural lifespan while shortening his own; so that the death of one was the death of the other.

He couldn't imagine how painful it would be to lose Evan, He'd lost the child twice already and nearly lost him again when those bastards threw him into the veil.

According to Guennéan, there had been one or two non-magical Riders, and the binding of the two souls had worked, though it had shortened the Dragon's lifespan considerably as muggles were not as long lived as wizards to begin with. Here in this world, was that the fate that would befall his cousins if they hatched here in non-magical Napoleonic Brittan? Would the little Dragonetts bind themselves to their captains as he had accidently done when he'd called upon family magic just a short time ago?

If he was willing to shorten his life so that Evan could live longer, would his younger cousins? And was it something that only a dragon from his world could accomplish? He thought it might be, but wasn't sure and he doubted any sane dragon from this world would even consider the option given it's consequences. Particularly since if the magic was attempted with two incompatible souls… Guennéan had said it would kill them both.

"Temeraire," he asked after a second's hesitation. "If a way existed for you to extend Laurence's life by shortening your own would you take it?"

Temeraire's head snapped around. "How?" he demanded.

Sirius shook his horned head in reply. "It was only a question." He replied sadly. He would have to talk to Daegberht and Guennéan about this. Maybe they could move their aerie to this world. Maybe they could make the Aviators see the importance of giving a Hatchling six months to find their riders.

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Evan blinked at the sight of all the different stones, Morgan had laid out in front of him. She offered him a small smile. "Extend your magic to the stones one at a time and we will see which one resonates best with you now that you and Sirius are bound together."

Evan sighed, he didn't understand why this was important. Magically speaking he no longer had the power required to light a candle. Let alone light a rock up like a lamp.

Morgan had informed him that the loss of his magical power was not a result of the new world he was living in, but rater a result of the fact that the bond between he and Sirius had been forged in fire. Sirius had in his desperation magically drained them both, when he'd rescued him from Dover.

In his own world recovery from magical exhaustion would have taken him a week maybe two. However that was largely due to the fact that both the Black and the Potter family magic would have answered his need. Additionally the ambient magic in the very air would have aided him in his recovery. Here however, the entirety of his family magic came from his bond to his long dead parents, and from a combination of the ambient magical energy created by the magical aura of the only two magical being in this world.

Namely him and Sirius

As such it was going to take a while for his magic to fully recover.

Morgan – who to his utter shock had turned out to be Morgan la Fay – had started to teach him the earliest techniques of mage craft. It had taken him a while to work out what she meant by Ground, Center and Shielding but honestly now that he was beginning to master that technique his magic – what little he could access of it – felt stronger more focused.

He looked up at his teacher,. "Morgan? He asked softly, "Can you explain the purpose of this exercise?" Morgan at least was alright with that, and almost no question was taboo with her. She would rather explain her reasoning and then leave him floundering. Honestly he liked her lessons better, since she had never left him wondering why he was turning an everyday useful object into something as unhelpful as a bug.

She smiled kindly at him. "Every mage needs to at least know what focus stones work for them." She replied mildly. "Can you come up with the reason why?"

Evan sighed and settled himself down in front of the rows of stones, to think. As a child his accidental magic had been formidable. However as a wizard he was mediocre at best.

What could cause such a difference?

Wasn't Hogwarts supposed to teach him to control his magic?

He considered the problem for a moment and then considered his now snapped wand…

Morgan had called his wand a tool that he'd been taught to use as a crutch. He contemplated that, as an image sprang unbidden into his mind. His cousin had owned a small laser pointer when they were younger and Harry had once heard a teacher explaining that all a laser was, was a beam of focused light. He looked up at Morgan, "does focusing your magi have an amplifying effect? Like a laser?"

Morgan blinked and then smiled, "I do not know what a laser is child but using a focus stone does in fact have the affect of focusing and thus amplifying the power of your magical gift."

Evan considered that for a moment, "Fluorite is your focus stone right?" he asked mildly.

"Yes," she replied evenly, "We wear our focus stones in an amulet because it allows us to focus our magic further. The bracelets aid in focusing the magic as we cast, though they are just a tool I can still focus my magic on my own. It is harder to do but it is possible. Agrawain wears Fluorite at his breast because our magical cores are tied together, and it symbolizes that bond. Our cores have been irreversibly changed by that bond to the point that my old focus stone – while still usable – no longer resonates well with my magical core; and cracks whenever I channel my magic through it. In a sense I am an entirely different person from the one Agrawain chose to be his companion."

"No ordinary person's magic can affect a dragon." Agrawain informed them both mildly. "Yet my Morgan's magic works upon me without the need of overpowering force. It is a gift that I gave her when I bound our souls." His tail tip twitched, the blade tapping the ground with an eerie ringing. "My breed is the only truly sentient Dragon species, yet there are things we simply cannot do for ourselves. Not in this world, not anymore. Human's had grown to numerous, the Mages of old have died off and the Wizards that followed in their footsteps have forgotten their ancestors oaths, both to us and to the new blood that rises every generation to keep them from stagnation." The dragon's tail flicked lightly forward, and Evan felt the curve of his blade rest lightly under his chin, as the dragon gently lifted his head so that he was forced to look into the glowing eyes.

Evan was oddly unafraid, even with the sharp paper thin edge of the blade resting against his windpipe.

"You must learn, young one, and learn well. You must be our voice now; you and Sirius. Should you choose to go home and raise your own Aerie, or should you choose to move your clan here and join these Converts. You are forever a part of the Clan. We will be your strength, when you have need of it, and Our great wings will offer shelter when you are lost or alone. Our magic is yours to wield, as my innate magic was once at Morgan's call. The bond between you and your Sirius will grow and mature as his magic slowly changes, he is ours now, and through him so are you hatchling. So are you, Always remember that; and when the time comes for you to make your choice – you will do so with our collective strength at your aid and a full understanding of why our riders were the most respected mages of their time." Agrawain lowered his tail carefully, and rose gracefully to his feet, unfurled his wings and launch himself into the late evening sky.

Evan turned his attention back to Morgan, "What do I have to do?" he enquired.

She smiled, "Ground and center, feel the shape of your magic as it flows inside of your skin, feel it's direction. Once you have found it separate off the smallest finger of your magic and direct it at the different stones, you will know when you've found the right one."

Evan closed his eyes and focused inward, until he brushed against the rapidly swirling twister of power that was his magical core. Colors flashed by overlapping and twining together in a way that Evan was sure wasn't natural, he reached out gently taking hold of a small tendril of the oddly intertwined magic, and felt a brief flare of awareness. Sirius was in a clearing with two other Fire opals rearing back onto his hind legs beating his wings at a frantic pace to keep himself upright. He pulled his attention away from Sirius' odd exercise and focused on his own.

He felt nothing for a time, he was simply floating in a stream of his own magic, and then he felt it. It was subtle but there, Morgan had taught him to feel the energy and vibrations of his own magical core. The Stone whichever one it was reflecting his own energy and magic back at him. Vibrating and pulsing in time with the vibrations of his magical energy.

He was confused however as the vibrations seemed to be coming from several directions. He pulled himself out of his trance and mentioned the problem to Morgan. The woman blinked in surprise.

"Can you tell me which stones are resonating for you?" she asked after a moments consideration.

Evan thought about it and realized that he could not pinpoint the exact stones from memory. Morgan smiled at him when he admitted such, "then don't try to remember, just find the stones that resonated with you."

Evan considered this, and then rose to look at the stones after a moment he found one that was vibrating softly. He picked it up and carried it over to Morgan and then went to find the others.

There were 10 in all, and he couldn't help noticing the startled look on his teacher's face. After a moment she asked "can you tell me what these stones all have in common?"

Evan shook his head, as far as he could tell they were all different.

"They are all Opals," Morgan informed him mildly.

Evan blanched since he'd been taught that Opals where harbingers of Bad luck and Misfortune, to the point that his books had referred to Opals as "Stones of Sorrow."

"Oh for Heaven's sake!" Morgan exclaimed when He mentioned it tentatively. "That is the most idiotic thing I have ever heard. Opals are not in any way shape or form connected to sorrow bad luck or misfortune – which are the same thing by the way. Your linguistic tutor should be ashamed of such incompetence, but I digress, we will get back to the obvious lack in your education at a later date." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Opals are not "set", not like other stones. Opals are very dynamic and can accept, store and exude any form of energy you can put into it. This is because Opals contain all the qualities of all they other stones. They are specialized yes, but an Opal can be used magically for any need. Opals are a great protective stone, both for the wearer and those they wish to put their energy towards protecting. It is favored by those with psychic powers, as it aids in balancing. It can help in many magical disciplines. They are also extremely sensitive to magical energy, as you have seen." She smiled at him then.

"There is a legend that speaks of a time when all riders will wear a Type of Precious opal, a time when we will once again fly with impunity and children will strive to achieve the honor of become one of ours."

Evan smiled at that, "So how prevalent are opals as focus stones?" he enquired.

Morgan sighed, "Opals are often used by mages and wizards in order to store magic and spells … at least they were before the Clans died out. However it is exceedingly rare for a person to have an opal as a personal focus stone. We will have to figure out exactly what type of Opal works best for you. It is time for you to rejoin the waking world child, we will find your stone tonight when you sleep."

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Evan awoke in his room, the sun shining in through the open windows. He breathed in the salty air, and took a moment to contemplate what he'd just learned. He honestly didn't know how he felt about his focus stone, or Morgan's legend for that matter. He sighed and set the matter aside for further thought at a later date.

He had other things to worry about, like making himself presentable for breakfast, and then going out for his first lesson with a gun. He was excited about that lesson. But the lesson he looked forward to the most was any lesson that allowed him to fly with Sirius.

A.N

Sorry this took so long the world kind of turned on its ear for a few weeks


	11. Chapter 11

Evan sighed as he set about peeling Sirius's now filthy harness off, the dragon snorted in annoyance and dismay as the four men who were the admiral's latest attempt at providing the core of his ground crew staggered off in each other's company.

"At least no one threw up on me last time," Sirius said, his voice heavy with annoyance, as Evan and Lieutenant Rankin managed to finish peeling off his harness.

Evan patted Sirius briefly on the leg before turning and leading him away to have his hide scrubbed. "Perhaps you should stop performing the Woollongong Shimmy only to plummet down into a Wronski's feint."* Evan suggested mildly, "the maneuvers have to be somewhat alarming for anyone not accustom to them."

Sirius laughed the noise disconcerting for its sheer volume. "Why should I limit myself to the techniques these dragons can achieve?" the dragon replied mildly. "As for the men the Admiral keeps trying to assign to me, why should I go easy on them, when there are more than enough men with nothing to do to ensure that we get to pick the men most suited to us?" the dragon shifted slightly allowing Evan to scrub the vomit from his scales. "Besides if they cannot handle those two techniques at a relatively low speed, how will they handle my utilizing them and others in an actual battle? I will not have you endangered because my crew is inadequate."

Evan shook his head, "honestly I do not understand these men, they can handle maneuvers that are flown upside down, but ask them not to puke when you do a double eight loop."

Sirius snorted, "Jane said that my top men would not be set for some time yet, both because of how long it will take me to finish growing but also because they want to give their officers a chance to learn the techniques that will come with serving on a dragon of my breed… frankly I think they had best learn to cultivate a stronger stomach. I have the ability to double back on my flight path at a moment's notice and I see no reason not to utilize that fact."

Evan nodded, "Personally I see no reason to ask you not to Siri, as the maneuver has proved useful in keeping both of us in one peace since we got here. It's just Admiral Roland and Captains Laurence and Granby mentioned the importance of a well functioning crew and I wonder if we will ever be able to have a full crew compliment as the only person besides myself to be able to fly with you without losing their lunch is lieutenant Rankin, and even she has trouble."

"Perhaps some consideration should be given to finding you crew members who have served mostly with Reapers, Anglewings and some of our other smaller faster or more maneuverable breeds." Captain Granby suggested as he, captain Laurence and Temeraire joined him in the clearing where he was scrubbing down Sirius's soft hide. Granby's Young Kazilik, Iskierka, bounding along at Temeraire's heals, looking rather more like a snake with legs then a dragon despite the fact that she had grown 12 feet longer since the night he and Sirius had arrived in the Convert. The sinuous little thing was loudly demanding more details on the earning of capital.

" I am in service now, but I still have to sleep upon the cold dirt in that horrid clearing because you did not tell me that it had to be a French ship!" Iskierka complained loudly, as Temeraire lashed his tail slightly in annoyance.

Sirius snorted, and Evan inclined his head to Captain Granby in acknowledgement of the suggestion and decided to enquire after the former postings of some of the Grounds crew men who were as yet unassigned.

"Would the two of you be willing to give me some advice o the selection of my officers? I have no idea what to look for?" he enquired mildly.

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Jane Roland rubbed at her temples; they had finally managed to find a ground crew for Sirius. All four of the masters who had formed the core of the crew had been taken from the crews of Anglewings who had been grounded by the dragon Plague. The same was true of the rest of the dragon's crew. Despite this precaution nausea was still a problem for the crew men and she prayed that they managed to acclimate to the Dragon's unusual flying techniques before they actually saw battle.

Now that they had been forced to ground and quarantine Temeraire, it didn't look like they would have the time. As it was she needed the boy to chose his first lieutenant and soon. So far he'd had three different Lieutenants acting in that capacity. Lieutenant Jonathan Briggs, a somewhat burly man of 36 years, was the most experienced of the three having served on no fewer than six dragons, two of whom had been Anglewings. Matthew Carter, being a good five years younger was not quite as experienced, but had more experience with the adroit maneuvering Sirius was sure to be capable of, having spent the formative years of his service aboard an Anglewing. He'd served onboard five dragons, before being grounded by Obversaria's death. The last one Lieutenant Maria Gray, was only about 25 years old. Jane hesitated to assign anyone less experienced for Captain Black's consideration. The Boy and his dragon were still to raw, and they needed the guidance and disciple an experienced Lieutenant could provide.

Lieutenant Rankin had proven herself as the boy's tutor at least and she had planned on presenting the lieutenant as an option in her turn but now it looked as though she would not get the chance. They were just too pressed for time.

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Sirius stood in the middle of the field used for target practice by the various Longwings stationed at Dover. Normally he attacked from the air but tonight he wanted to try something different. He and Evan had been coming here at night to get in a little bit more practice since he could see just as easily at night as he could during the day.

"Are you sure about this?" Evan enquired cautiously. "What if you hurt yourself?"

Sirius nudged the boy gently with his nose, nearly knocking him over in the process. Evan hugged his muzzle briefly before letting him go. "I need to see if I can do this, it could be useful in a fight and I will not lose you because I am adhering to some stupid rule." He paused and switched from his now more frequently used if still somewhat broken English, to the strange hissing of the dragon's language. "I was quite good at using a reverse pass during my Hogwarts days, I see no reason why I should not be able to master firing over my shoulder with the same accuracy."

Evan sighed and nodded his head, "do you want me to stay in my customary spot?" he asked after a second, "or do you want me to take cover somewhere?"

Sirius offered him his hand, and put him aboard after he'd stepped onto his palm. Evan made his way easily up from the dragon's shoulder to the back of his neck deftly tucking himself into the safety provided by the horns at the back of his neck.

"I think, I will stick to my venom for now," Sirius said mildly, after Evan had settled himself down among his horns. "Once I'm 100% accurate with that I'll move on to Fire."

"Who do you think I should take as my first Lieutenant?" Evan asked as Sirius struck the side of his intended target with a stream of viscous pearly liquid.

Sirius snorted, "Frankly I am about ready to bite that bloody bint, who does she think she is strutting about my back as if she were Morgan La Fay herself? Issuing orders and ignoring you as if she were my captain and not you!" He shifted slightly, his head snapping forward slightly as he sent more venom racing towards his target.

"I agree that Gray is defiantly out." Evan replied mildly. "Briggs and Carter seem competent enough at any rate. Although Briggs still takes a few minutes to compose himself after you pull of a particularly aerobatic maneuver."

Sirius grunted in satisfaction as he finally managed to hit his target dead on after whipping his head around sharply to aim over his shoulder. "Carter would seem to be the best choice them, although he does not seem to be particularly gifted or inventive. That and his sense of humor is atrociously stunted."

Evan ran a hand through his still relatively short hair, wondering how long it would take before he could tie it back in a short tail like the other aviators, and men of this era. "You must also give consideration to the fact that you may be stuck with whichever lieutenant we chose for a very long time Sirius. While I do not dislike the idea of having children, I refuse to do so simply for the sake of keeping you bound to the service of England even after I am gone, and we have no way of knowing if I will retain a wizard's lifetime here."

Sirius's horns rattled ominously around him at the mentioned of his potentially shortened lifespan, and flame erupted a few feet away streaming out across the black sky to collide with the straw target. Within moments the target had burned to ash and the fire had spread to the ground around it, happily consuming anything in its path.

"Sirius, fly now we must put it out." Evan called frantic at the thought of Sirius's extremely hot flame spreading. "Water, we need water."

Sirius shook his head beneath him, "no," he replied just as frantically, "water makes it spread, we need dirt!" he dove at the ground scooping up great claws full of earth and wheeled around to drop the load upon the fire. From there it was several minutes frantic work before the last of the fire was smothered, and Evan found himself wondering just how he was going to explain the scorched stone and earth come morning.

"At least we know you can be accurate firing over your shoulder." He said mildly, as Sirius wheeled away and headed back for his own clearing.

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Sirius felt pride swelling in his breast; today he was flying his first real patrol. He'd been paired with The Anglewing Crescendium and two of the little feral dragons that Temeraire had pressed into service with the promise of food. The little dragons were chattering to themselves in their strange tongue and Sirius caught maybe one word in twenty discounting the occasional English word they'd thrown into the mix.

Crescendium snorted, and shook his head in mild distaste. A veteran of some 30 years, he clearly disapproved of the little feral dragons, though Sirius did not – quite – know why. Sure they were goofing off but surely that wasn't such a large problem? Sirius himself liked to goof off, as Lily had once put it he was a scoundrel at heart. It had never gotten him into too much trouble, and never at the expense of those he should have been protecting … the incident with Moony and Snivilus didn't count.

The damned snake had been loudly proclaiming Moony to be a werewolf in the middle of a corridor and so he'd told him what to do if he wanted proof of that theory. He'd honestly never expected him to do it, not with all his supposed logical evidence of Moony's condition.

As for the deaths of Lily and James and Harry's placement with the Dursleys. He'd been deadly serious when he'd suggested that they make certain that there was no way the Dark Lord could find them. He'd wanted desperately to protect his only family, running decoy had seemed like the best idea at the time. He should have chosen Remus. Remus would never have betrayed his friends and Moony would never have betrayed his Alpha, particularly not when the outcome would have been Harry's death. Remus had once confided in him that he didn't think Moony would ever hurt Harry, the wolf saw him as his pack's only cub.

Something to be protected at all costs

Sirius had forgotten that at the time, and remus had been spending so much time among the werewolf packs and had been so elusive about everything; that it had made sense when Dumbledore had suggested off handedly that moony had probable truly aligned himself with the strength of a werewolf pack.

He'd never suspected Peter of treachery.

Lily had though.

After their deaths, he'd lost it; he should have taken Harry from Hagrid and retreated behind the Black Family Wards. Instead he'd gone after the traitor… and lost everything.

Beside him Crescendium sighed and Sirius Idly wondered what was taking so long, his own crew had finished putting on his harness, and he'd somewhat absent mindedly put Evan aboard, eagerly awating his turn to go aloft. He turned his head and took in the sight of the two squabbling little dragons. Every time the smaller of the two tried to take off the larger made it clear he wouldn't allow it. Sirius rolled his eyes at their antics and reminded himself that these two belonged to their own hierarchy. That wouldn't change just because they were working with other groups. Just like Moony had visibly differed to Prongs, around the full moon, until Dumbledore had pulled James aside one day and asked him to make a show of differing to him around the full moon so that "Poor Remus's inner beast," would know that "his Alpha" had "given him the Right to give him orders."

It was the reason Remus hadn't told them about half of the missions he'd sent on by Dumbledore. It was also why they'd been willing to listen to Dumbledore when the man suggested that perhaps Remus was spending too much time among the werewolf packs. Bloody bastard! They never would have chosen Peter if they hadn't been worried about Moony.

He shook his head, "Smallest goes aloft first." He informed the two squabbling dragons firmly and watched as the little yellow and blue dragon finally sprang into the air his only slightly larger companion hard on his tail, Crescendium took to the air as soon as they were up. Sirius snorted and went aloft, wondering, again, how in the hell _he'd _wound up in the Military.

Somewhere out there, Prongs was laughing his ass off over this, he just knew it!

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Sirius was frankly exhausted, two weeks ago when the HMS Allegiance had set sail with Temeraire and the rest of his formation, he'd been sad to see them go yet thankful for the fact that his friend would survive his exposure to the plague. But now he could understand the other dragon's quiet exhaustion. Temeraire had shouldered the burden he now split with Iskierka, he'd shouldered the burden of flying patrols and turning back the French forces.

Sirius Frankly didn't know how the other dragon had shouldered that burden day in and day out, but he respected him a lot more now that the burden was partly his to bear. Today was frankly even more aggravating then was the norm. Firstly the French appeared to have realized that something was amiss, which had resulted in Admiral Roland trying to come up with a way to simulate full fighting formations. At present she was trying to come up with a way to work Crescendium, Iskierka, and him into a single formation.

Frankly Sirius could have done without the fire-breather, he found her to be more than a bit irritating, frankly. Although in some ways her arrogance reminded him of himself as a teenage and he hoped she would out grow it.

He glanced over at the other dragons of his somewhat makeshift formation and wished once again that Temeraire was still In England. He missed the other dragon and flying a patrol with Temeraire had to be better then flying one with Iskeirka. Or at least more interesting.

Iskeirka was currently flying about them, her sinuous length writhing in a manor more reminiscent to a gigantean snake then a dragon. Great plumes of flame billowing forth from her slightly parted Jaws scorching the air directly ahead of them as they flew. Though there was no reason for it beyond, what Sirius was certain was the need to stock her own already somewhat inflated ego. Every once in a while the cloud of feral dragons that made up the bulk of their makeshift formation would scatter fluttering off to merlin knew what before reappearing again, with a chorus of ear piercing caterwauling that Sirius was sure would wake the dead.

One or two or even three of the little dragons at a time, had proven to be a handful to keep in line. The whole gang of twenty however, was enough to make him consider the possibility of using them to improve his aim with a target in flight. It may have been a cruel and truly unbecoming thought, but he was honestly that annoyed with the lot of them, and their damned leader…

The less said about Arkedy the better!

For the love of Merlin they were at war with France and he and that damned Kazilik, seemed to only care about acquiring a heap of gold to sleep on.

Okay he had to admit the idea was amusing, but still.

He had no real loyalty to Brittan, even Wizarding Brittan which had wronged him and his beloved Godson, to often for any loyalty to have survived. Still he understood war. He understood that if they didn't keep France at bay Innocent lives would be lost.

So he would protect this Brittan.

James would have wanted it that way.

Prongs would have been so proud of his son for rising to meet this challenge, and doing what was right.

Beside him that damned Kazilik was chattering on in a self absorbed way that was ridiculously irritating, and Sirius found himself wishing, and not for the first time, that his fire didn't burn so hot and so quickly.

He would have enjoyed setting the tip of her tail alight.

Exhausted and more than a little annoyed Sirius continued his patrol.

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A.N

This chapter is unedited. Alright guys sorry for the abnormally long wait, t has been a hard year and a ridiculous last semester, so only things already written and in the case of most of my other stories already edited got posted. But that is what happens when you and your roommate (who edits for you) spend the better part of half a semester couch hopping because your dorm is unlivable and the other half playing catch up on assignments you didn't have the resources to complete within your normal timeframe. Next semester is the last before I enter graduate school and the same goes for my editor so I have no idea how long it will be between updates but I will do my best.

Lunerwerewolf

PS. For those of you following Demonic delema knotted wand, it has not been abandoned it has simply been a casualty of this past year and will be updated asap


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